Until it breaks?
by DU-muc
Summary: House and Wilson screw up a case and end up in jail. While they still ponder the question of guilt new problems arise with the inmates and the guards and these problems might put their friendship over the edge. No slash just friendship.
1. Chapter 1

House sighed when he reached for another file. It felt as if he had spent the last 8 hours in the clinic but he has only been working there for 45 minutes. Still, that had been enough time to bore the hell out of him.

For a moment he thought about leaving and taking the afternoon off but he immediately had Cuddy's angry facial impression on his mind and skipped that idea. She was still pissed at him and he was a little bit afraid of putting her over the edge. So he had decided to be a nice boy for a little while and that unfortunately included clinic duty as well.

He entered the exam room and found a young man in his early twenties waiting for him. House put aside the file. Everything he had to know was written all over the guy's face anyway.

"So what's your complaint?", the diagnostician asked.

"I don't have one actually. My girlfriend sent me here."

House rolled his eyes. "Symptoms please!", he mumbled.

"Sorry. I'm always tired and I seem to lose weight. But I lost my appetite because my stomach keeps bugging me. I think it's just stress, I'm studying for my final exams in med school but Susan insisted on me coming here."

"Terrific. How nice of her to waste our time. So what are you taking to get through the long nights in the library? Some little helper to stay focused? Got a friend with a prescription pad?"

The patient shook his head. "No. Only coffee and cigarettes. Too much fastfood. The typical student's life. Susan is always worried because I'm a bleeder. But it wasn't a problem so far."

"And probably enough alcohol to trouble your liver given the yellow shine in your eyes", House told him.

Jason looked surprised. "What do you mean? I'm jaundiced? That wasn't there this morning. And I don't drink."

House smirked for a moment. "That's incredible. I just found the only student in the universe who doesn't drink."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Listen, I don't touch alcohol. I hate it.", he sighed. "I hate how it changes people."

House gave it a thought. Daddy obviously got a little bit violent after beer 6, 7 and 8.

"Lie down", he ordered him now and got up. With his trained hands he felt the upper part of the stomach on the right side. He didn't like what he felt there. He took a step back and looked at his patient. Jason was skinny, definitely shortweight. Still his belly seemed inflated.

House took a seat again and opened the file. It only contained two sheets so far since it was Jason's first visit in the PPTH. One was the form Jason was asked to fill in while he waited. It contained his general data, present medications and preexisting conditions. The other one was supposed to be filled in by the attending doctor.

House got a pen from his jacket and scribbled down a few notes.

"I'm going to call my buddy now. He will give you a nice sedative so he can take out a little piece of your liver. Then we will stick it under a microscope to see if you have liver cancer."

House observed the kid's reaction. He was obviously shocked.

"Cancer? Are you sure?"

"No, that's where the biopsy comes in. Listen, are you sure you don't drink? Still could be a simple case of "I drank my liver goodbye!"

Still startled Jason shook his head. "No alcohol."

House gave him a nod. "Biopsy it is!"

He reached the phone next to the door and told the nurse to page Dr. Wilson for a consult in exam room one.

"If that other doctor cuts me open you really should make it extra clear to him that I'm hemophilic. I wrote it down on the form."

"Don't worry. I'll pass it on. It's just a small incision, and they will take care of it. My buddy will be with you in a minute", House told him and left.

He approached the nurse's desk and handed her the file.

"Patient in exam room one has a date with Wilson. It's two pm, I'm out of here", he told her and left.

House never noticed the piece of paper that had dropped from the file on his way to the desk. He had never seen the janitor picking it up and stuffing it into the garbage can minutes later, angry that he always had to clean up after those doctors. No, House had better things to do. He was on his way to the cafeteria to get lunch before his soap started. Wilson would take care of that patient and by the time House yelled at the cafeteria chick for not removing the pickles from his sandwich he had already forgotten about every patient he had seen in the clinic this morning.

* * *

Two hours later Wilson approached him in his office. House's team had released their latest patient that morning and was out of business at the moment due to a lack of diagnostic mysteries.

Wilson was pale and he seemed very uncomfortable. He entered the department and just stared past House out of the window for a moment. House looked up from his magazine. Finally he turned around to find out if there was something interesting drawing Wilson's attention but he couldn't find anything.

"Wilson, your office has the same view. Anything you need?", he finally interrupted the silence.

"He's dead", the oncologist mumbled and met House's eyes.

"Who is dead?'"

"Jason. The patient you referred to me two hours ago."

House put down the magazine and got his feet of his table.

"He seemed alive when I left him. What did you do?"

Wilson's expression changed from shocked to furious.

"What I did? I did you a favor. There are ten oncologists in my department but no, you always have to call for me. So I did it. Checked the file even for allergies and pre existing conditions that might lead to complications and once again I was stupid enough to trust a file that went through your hands."

"His file is brand new. It's the first time he showed up here", House explained.

"Then it's even more important you make notes!", Wilson yelled at him. "For example that he will bleed to death as soon as I cut him open because he's missing a very important clotting factor."

House looked confused.

"He bled to death from a biopsy? You opened the entire stomach or what?", he finally asked.

"No I didn't. We had trouble controlling the bleed but got it under control. What we didn't notice was the fact that he bled into his stomach once we were done. By the time he crashed in the wake up room it was too late. We don't even need an autopsy since there was enough unclotted blood left to do a simple test. He was a bleeder!"

It took a while until it dawned on House that they were in serious trouble and finally the color of his skin matched his friend's pretty well. He gulped nervously.

House had not added that piece of information because he had seen it on the form Jason had filled in. He was sure Wilson would read it there and take care of it. Wilson always took care.

House looked at the oncologist who had taken a seat in the meantime.

"So what now?", he simply asked.

Wilson shook his head. "No idea. There's not too much we can do, I guess. Wait until Cuddy finds out and brace for impact."

House was already lost in his thoughts again, pondering about the possible consequences awaiting the two of them. This was a mistake that was not supposed to happen. Not to a first year medical student and especially not to two department heads.

Wilson was probably busted anyway. He did the biopsy he was right there and was not able to save the patient's life. He had no chance to come out of this unaffected.

"Didn't you read his file?", House finally asked.

Wilson shook his head. "There was nothing in there. Just your lame handwriting listing some symptoms and your possible diagnosis. By the time I got the file the nurse had added his blood type and the lack of any allergies."

"And you didn't ask him?"

Wilson took a deep breath. "Why would I ask him? It's not my job to get his basic data. Why didn't he fill in a form when he came into the clinic?"

The diagnostician didn't answer him. He was once more lost in his thoughts considering his own future this time.

If that sheet of paper wouldn't show up again, there was no trouble waiting for him. He could simply deny that he knew about the condition. The only witness was dead. House could lie. Everybody did it anyway.

No need in getting both of them busted. It would all come down on Wilson, but House could walk out of it unmolested.

"Did he tell you about it, House?", Wilson draw him out of his thoughts.

* * *

House chuckled for a moment. Every other doctor and this would have been easy. Damn it! Why did he always ask for Wilson when it came to a consult in oncology? Wilson was the department head for crying out loud! House could have asked one of the other ten oncologists and that guy's ass would be on the line right now. But no, he had to take every opportunity to annoy his best friend. He should have given the damn biopsy to someone else and have lunch with Wilson instead. Crap!

He had no time to think about the pros and cons of his answer. No time to rationalize or even better, come up with a lame excuse. He had no choice. Well actually he had but it was lame. He could either deny it and feel guilty while watching his friend losing his career or he could admit it and go down with him together. Right now he had a better feeling about option number two. Of course he couldn't know about the problems the two of them were about to face pretty soon.

"Yes, he did", he mumbled and let Wilson digest that piece of information.

Wilson took a deep breath. "Why didn't you write it down?", he asked next.

House shrugged and rubbed the side of his head for a moment. He was nervous.

"I was in a hurry."

Wilson shook his head. "No you were not. You have no case, no emergency waiting in your department. You had no reason to be in a hurry."

House pursed his lips. Wilson wouldn't like this.

"He was the last patient on my shift and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible."

The oncologist rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Of course you did. Afraid of missing your soap?"

"Why didn't you ask him? These are routine questions you ask before you cut someone open", House deflected.

"Oh I'm sorry. He was a nervous wreckage after you told him about the possible diagnosis in your unique way."

"I just told him he might have cancer."

"The kid thought he might have the flu or something and out of the blue you tell him he might die. He was a medical student, did you know this? He knew what such a diagnosis meant."

"Then he also should have known to wait for a confirmed diagnosis before freaking out. And he should have mentioned the lack of clotting factors in his blood."

"He did! He mentioned it to you! He knew you were the best doctor in this place and so he was stupid enough to believe that you would pass this information on by probably writing it down in the chart", Wilson yelled at him once more.

"It was there!", House shouted now. "He had written it down on the form. I read it. There was no need for me to write it down because it was already there!"

House leaned back and kept silent for a moment.

"And by the way this is your fault as well, Wilson. You cut him open, you are responsible", he finally mumbled more to himself to take some of the pressure of his shoulders.

"Of course that's the only thing you care about!", his friend yelled.

They both were silent for a while until Wilson exhaled deeply.

"Fine", he started again. "We need a strategy."

"We should blame the dead guy. He won't mind", House suggested.

The oncologist ignored that comment.

"There was only one sheet of paper in the file telling me about your diagnosis and order for the biopsy. You sure it was there?"

House glared at him for a moment.

"What you think I fantasized it? I might have a history for imagining things but I was sober this morning."

Wilson sighed. "That's not what I meant. Maybe you dropped it or I don't know. These things usually don't get lost."

House just shrugged. Again silence built up.

"You should deny it! Tell them you didn't know it", Wilson finally decided.

House sighed. "You're serious?"

Wilson nodded. "There's no need for both of us to lose our license."

House already felt bad about this.

"I can't lie about it", he finally decided and Wilson chuckled.

"House, this is really not the right time to start caring and showing responsible behavior."

"Don't worry, this is pure selfish behavior as always. If I lie about this and you lose your job our friendship won't survive", he admitted and for the first time during the past minutes their eyes met again.

"On the other hand, one of us has to pay the rent so one of us should keep his job", Wilson stated.

House smirked. "Yeah, and out of the two of us I'm the one well known for paying our bills!"

It got silent again until House's pager went off two minutes later. He had not even read the message when Wilson's pager started, too. They were supposed to show up in Cuddy's office immediately and they both knew trouble was waiting.

* * *

Reviews are welcome. :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**By the way, I don't own any of these characters...**

* * *

"Seriously, House. Keep yourself out of this. It's no use", Wilson told him once more on their way to the elevators.

House didn't answer. He wished he could come up with a story that would Wilson keep out of this even if it meant the end of his own career. Of course he would never admit that he was ready to sacrifice his license to save Wilson's butt.

Cuddy didn't seem pleased when they entered her office like two school boys forced to attend the headmaster. Their heads down, eyes glued to the floor they sat next to each other on the couch waiting for the shouting to begin. They had developed a strategy finally. As little as possible as much as necessary. Better not a word too much.

When nothing happened they eventually met their boss's eyes. Cuddy was just starring at them.

"What the hell happened today?", she finally asked.

She didn't get an answer.

"House!", she finally said in a louder voice. "A young man attends the clinic this morning and now he's dead. I'd like to know what happened in between."

"He…. died?", House stated the obvious.

"HOUSE!" , she yelled now and he rolled his eyes in return.

"I made a mistake!", Wilson finally interfered. "House referred a patient to me and I missed out an important fact."

House glanced over at his friend. That was a good moment to come clear and to take his load of the guilt.

"House?", Cuddy draw him of his thoughts and he looked at her.

"Anything to say?"

He took a quick shot at Wilson again but the oncologist was just inspecting his shoes. No need to meet his eyes, House already knew what Wilson wanted. Protecting his friend as he always did.

"Patient presented in the clinic this morning with a stomach ache, lack of appetite and first signs of jaundice in his eyes. He also mentioned that he had lost weight during the last weeks. I examined his upper stomach and felt some hard tissue on his liver maybe cirrhosis, maybe a tumor. His stomach seemed to be inflated but it wasn't air, it was fluid filled which also could point to a hepatocellular carcinoma which sometimes presents itself with collection of water in the stomach. So I referred him to oncology for a confirmation."

Plain medical facts, no emotions included. That was how House presented it to his boss. No lie needed, that's how it happened.

"Which brings us to the oncologist", Cuddy turned to Wilson.

He looked up.

"We prepared him for a liver biopsy. I did it myself. We had some trouble controlling the bleed but could stop it finally. The patient was brought to the wake up room while I tested the cells in the lab. Half an hour later the patient's blood pressure dropped severely. It went unnoticed that he was bleeding into his abdomen. Once we caught it there was nothing we could do. The lack of clotting factors made it impossible for us to stop the bleed although we gave him Advate and O negative immediately."

"Which brings us back to you, House. How was it possible to do a biopsy on a bleeder without giving him the much needed factors first?", Cuddy asked next.

This time Wilson glanced at House. They were best friends but even they were not psychic. Otherwise House could have heard Wilson scream: "LIE TO HER!" in his head.

"I forgot to write it down", he finally mumbled.

"So he did tell you about his condition?"

House pursed his lips and nodded slightly.

Cuddy shook her head. "Oh House", she simply said and sighed. At that moment she felt sorry for both of them. They knew they had screwed up big time and she was angry at them but still Cuddy felt pity.

* * *

She couldn't say anything else because suddenly the door flew open and a man stormed inside.

"Are you Dr. Wilson?", he shouted and pointed at the oncologist.

"Who are you?", Cuddy asked but that guy didn't even notice her.

He stepped around the table and grabbed Wilson by his collar with both hands. He yanked him off the couch. "Are you the doctor who killed my son?"

House got up in order to help his friend.

"Hey, let go of him!", he yelled and stepped forward leaving his cane next to the couch.

Cuddy grabbed the intruder by his arm. "Sir, please calm down!"

Wilson didn't resist at all.

He was already preparing for the well deserved punch he expected any second. He never got it though. A second man entered, his suit was probably even more expensive than the other guy's.

"Let him go, George!", he yelled and tried to calm him down. Cuddy was pushed aside and finally she stood next to House.

"We will get him but not like this!", guy number two assured his buddy.

That George guy finally let go of Wilson and stepped back.

"You killed my son. I'll get you for this. I'll make sure you end up in jail and if it costs me everything I got!", he threatened Wilson. Given the expensive suit he was wearing that could be a lot.

Mr. Milton left the office but his colleague stayed a moment later.

"My name is Walter Harper. I'm sorry about my client's outburst but given the horrifying news he just received it might be understandable. Let me just assure you that we will do everything we can to make sure that the people responsible will face their well-deserved consequences."

With that Mr. Harper left as well and the three of them looked behind him for a moment.

* * *

Cuddy took a deep breath. "You alright?", she asked Wilson. He nodded and straightened out his shirt.

"So, before I bring in our own lawyer let me ask one more question."

The two men sat down again.

"You couldn't just draw some blood and run a test with markers? You couldn't just do an ultrasound to confirm a mass on his liver? You couldn't just follow that damn protocol, could you?"

She was yelling at Wilson at the moment but actually she was madder at House.

"I'm not surprised that he skipped every responsible behavior as usual, but you, Dr. Wilson, had to pick up his behavior finally, didn't you?"

Wilson buried his head in his hands. He knew he had screwed it up, he didn't need her to tell him. It was House. Whenever House ordered a test he had a reason. It was hard for him to admit it but when his friend asked for his help he just did it. He knew House had it all thought over and he trusted him. House took care of the thinking part. He always did. And if a diagnosis was pointing to cancer, House would call in his friend. Wilson himself was just a brainless tool in those cases. So far it had always worked.

"Oh cut the crap, Cuddy!", House interrupted annoyed. "Think about all the stuff I talked you into during the past years. How many times did you manage to say no? Don't blame him for a mistake you are making yourself all the time. This is my fault. I could have done an ultrasound or a blood test. And after that we would have done a biopsy anyway. I was lazy and in a hurry to get out of the damn clinic so I skipped test number one and two. If you blame him for this you have to blame yourself, too. You let me practice like this for years and this time we ran out of luck."

Cuddy glared at him. "You are not dragging me into this, House!", she yelled. She tried to calm down, walked a few steps and took a seat behind her desk eventually.

Finally she looked back at her two department heads. Of course they protected each other. Only divulging enough information to calm her down but keeping the rest of the story from her so far. And of course they wouldn't blame each other. It was almost sweet having their boys taking care for each other for once if the situation hadn't been that serious.

"You got yourselves into serious trouble this time. I'll talk to the lawyer and you two get out of here. You won't touch another patient until further notice", she informed them and they didn't hesitate for a second to get out of her sight.

* * *

"I told you to shut up, House!", Wilson yelled at him as soon as they were out of the door.

"Well I'm telling you now. Shut up!", House told him over his shoulder while steering towards his bike.

"Oh right. This is how you gonna deal with this, isn't it? As if walking away would do anything to solve that problem."

House rolled his eyes. "No, I'm walking away because I was just thrown out by my boss."

He stared at his bike for a moment.

"No helmet", Wilson stated the obvious.

"Who cares?", the diagnostician mumbled and got on the machine.

"When are we gonna talk about this?", Wilson asked him and got nothing but a shrug from his friend.

He started the engine and was gone a moment later. Wilson turned to the hospital and walked back. He needed to refer his patients to his colleagues before he could leave. Until further notice…

* * *

When Wilson finally arrived at home the living room was empty. He could hear House playing his guitar in his bedroom though. For a moment he stood in front of the door and listened. House's playing matched his mood pretty well. Depressing and sad.

Wilson thought about entering and discussing the latest events but he decided otherwise. He was tired and maybe it was best for them to sleep on it before dealing with that issue again.

It was only half past six and both of them were hiding in their bedrooms. Wilson lay on his bed and for the first time it really hit him. He was responsible for that kid's death. Maybe he wasn't the only one but still. The autopsy had revealed the tumor in the liver but he could have survived the cancer. Jason shouldn't have to die from such a stupid mistake. Wilson felt guilty. Very guilty. But there was also desperation coming up. Everything had worked out so nicely. Wilson had been glad after they had restored their friendship a year ago. But then House had his breakdown and the oncologist was once more worried about his best friend. House had made a huge way since Mayfield and he had to admit, their new living arrangement really suited him very well. Sharing the place with House could be really annoying but it was also incredible fun. And now their once again restored universe was about to collapse once more. That didn't seem fair. Or maybe it was fair this time since they couldn't blame anyone but themselves. It wasn't a freak accident like when Amber had died and House certainly didn't go crazy on purpose. But their lack of responsibility had cost a life and now it was time to pay the price. Wilson was convinced it was still possible to leave House out of it and he was hoping the diagnostician would realize it eventually. House was on a good way right now, he couldn't use any distraction like losing his license again.

House put aside his guitar. He had heard Wilson coming home and hoped he wouldn't come into his room. No need for a lecture or a discussion right now. He was busy yelling at himself inwardly. The diagnostician could not believe his own stupidity. He was also pondering about the missing form from the clinic. House was absolutely convinced he had seen it in the file. Jason had no allergies, no serious illnesses so far but he was hemophilic. Jason had even underlined that last information. These were the information House got by just glancing at it for a moment. It was there! So where was it once the file reached the oncology ward?

Ok, he had hallucinated some stuff but that sheet of paper was not an imagination of his brain. Certainly not. House closed his eyes and saw the other form from the file on his mind.

Preexisting conditions: There were actually two lines for those. Which means you could have quite a number of conditions and they could all be documented. All it needed was a reasonable doctor. But those two lines stayed empty on Jason Milton's form. Damn!

He should have written it down. Would have only taken 5 seconds. He would have made it out of there in time anyway. It was his fault. House was aware of that. And he felt guilty. Damn Nolan, damn therapy. Things were easier when he didn't allow them to bother him.

The diagnostician really felt sorry for the poor guy but truth to be told he felt even worse for Wilson. He had successfully managed to ruin his best friend's life twice within 2 years. Congratulations!

Probably this time Wilson would be gone for good. The oncologist couldn't be that stupid, that caring and that addicted to his neediness.

And that was his biggest fear at the moment. Losing the job? Well that would really suck. Especially since he just managed to get his team together again. Paying compensation to the family for the rest of his life? Hmm, he would probably find a job at some fast food restaurant to come up with that money. Well, he would never make the entire sum but who cares.

But losing Wilson? That would probably be the end of it. He knew that feeling. For four months Wilson had left his life after Amber's death and it had torn House apart. Thank God his father had died and brought them back together. Sort of a goodbye present from his old man.

House never wanted to feel the loss of his best friend again. There had to be a way to keep Wilson out of this. And if they had to come up with some lies.

Finally their thoughts settled in the same spot. They started asking themselves how many times during the past years have they simply been lucky? Have they shown such an irresponsible behavior before? Have they saved so many lives that they had forgotten how easy it was to screw things up?

Wilson remembered countless times when House asked for his consult. Did he really switch off his brain every time and only did as he was ordered by his friend? Did he skip protocol and prefer risky tests over simple ones in order to get a diagnosis quicker?

* * *

House finally got bored of inspecting the ceiling any longer and got up. He was hungry and so he sneaked out into the kitchen as silent as possible. Slowly he opened the fridge and got the left over Chinese takeout from the day before. He grabbed a fork and was back on his way to his room when Wilson stepped out on the floor as well. He had an urgent need to go to the bathroom.

An uncomfortable silence between them they just stood there. House concentrated on the fork in his hand.

"I need to go to the bathroom", Wilson finally explained and walked past him. House gave him a slight nod and turned around to get into his room. Suddenly Wilson turned around.

"You think there has ever been a better moment to get drunk?", he asked him.

House faced him and showed a light smirk.

"You sure?"

Wilson nodded. "Right now we still got the money. Let's get wasted. I doubt it I can find some sleep tonight with a clear head."

House looked down at his dinner again. "We should eat first. So you don't fall asleep after the first beer."

And so they went out. First they got a pizza and right after they settled down in a bar and within the next hour they were both drunk. The bartender didn't mind these customers. They obviously had money and something they wanted to forget about. Perfect combination. And the tips were very generous. Once they made it to the pool table they also made a nice gig for the other guests. Until Wilson broke the lamp hanging over the pool table with the cue. After this they were asked to leave. There was no need for making big tips if you have to redecorate afterwards.

No problem though, there were many bars in Princeton they could choose from. They even ran into an ATM on their way and it took Wilson only 10 minutes to get some money out of it. Fortunately he only typed in a wrong pin number twice.

Finally they were thrown out of bar number three when the bartender shut the place down. They thought about alternatives but finally they decided to call it a day or rather night and got into a cab. The two friends had really enjoyed that evening. Not once they had mentioned that sword of Damocles that was hanging over their heads. Eventually they fell into their beds completely dressed and were both asleep a minute later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Still not the owner of House...**

* * *

"Oh my God!", was the first thing that shot into Wilson's head the following morning. No actually it only arrived after the train had finished rushing through it. Carefully he opened one eye and regretted it immediately when daylight hit him. He pulled a pillow over his head and groaned. Damn alcohol.

Now he realized that he was still dressed. He was even wearing shoes and his tie. The oncologist checked his watch. It was half past ten. That's the nice thing about being suspended. No need to get up early.

Wilson tried to decide whether to get a shower or just die from his headache right there.

For House waking up was even worse. Although he was definitely more used to hangovers than his friend the ringing cell phone made up for that. House had no intention to answer the phone he just wanted that damn noise to stop. He tried the pillow over the head method first but whoever was calling was eager on reaching him. The ringing would stop after a while because the caller was put through to voicemail but it started again half a minute later.

After the third round House reached out for it and checked the caller's ID. He had expected his team desperately looking for his input on a new case but it was his boss.

"What do you want?", he snapped once he had answered.

"I need to talk to you", she said.

House yawned noisily. "I'm busy."

"House, I'm trying to save your asses here so you can at least talk to me."

"Talk to Wilson", he mumbled and rubbed his temple in a cheap try to deal with his headache.

"Wilson is not the one who can explain the missing form from the file to me", Cuddy explained.

"Well I can't either. Goodbye", he was about to hang up but Cuddy wasn't done.

"Please come in here and we talk about it", she sounded stressed out.

"What's there to talk?", House was annoyed.

"The police showed up this morning. They were informed by that nice lawyer. House, we have to deal with this. Please."

"You just have to blame us and the hospital is save, Cuddy", House explained.

"You think I only care about the hospital?", she said in a sad tone.

"You usually do", he mumbled and sat up.

"You know that's not true!", she complained.

House thought it over. Screw that damn lawyer and the cops. Of course they would show up and ask stupid questions. So why not go and see them voluntarily before they showed up and picked him up… and Wilson as well.

"Cops are still there?", he asked her now.

"They are talking to your team at the moment. Don't ask me why."

"I'll be there in half an hour. Gotta get in decent shape first."

"That would be a first", Cuddy smirked.

"Believe me, compared to right now my usual appearance is first rate."

"Oh my God what happened?", she asked him.

"Don't ask. Wilson is even off worse."

He hung up the phone. He got off his jacket and shirt both smelling of alcohol and fast food. He got rid of his shoes and trousers and was already fishing for fresh clothes in his wardrobe. Two minutes later he was dressed and in an urgent need to brush his teeth.

After five more minutes he had swallowed two aspirins, brushed his teeth and was on his way out. Wilson only heard him leaving when House slammed the door behind him. He jumped out of his bed and ran out regretting every single step since his head hurt like hell. By the time he was outside House was gone. Wilson went inside and found his phone. He knew House would probably not answer him while riding the bike but tried it anyway. As soon as he had dialed he could hear House's cell phone in his friend's bedroom. House had not taken it with him.

Wilson didn't even bother getting dressed in fresh clothes. He got his keys and was on his way to the hospital two minutes later because he was convinced that was where House was going.

* * *

After breaking the speed limit Wilson managed to catch his friend in the parking lot.

"Where do you think you are going?", he asked him.

"Cuddy finally asked me out on that date", House snapped and continued walking towards the door.

"House, we should talk about this first."

The diagnostician turned around.

"I thought we did that yesterday", he mumbled.

"There's no reason we both have to get into trouble. We should find a way out of this", Wilson told him.

House nodded. "Already on my way. I agree. You shouldn't pay for this."

Wilson looked confused and House caught it immediately.

He smirked. "Oh that's not what you meant? Yes sure, wouldn't help your neediness at all. You want to go down in flames while I walk away from it, right?"

Wilson groaned and rubbed his temple. Unlike his friend he had not found any aspirin at home.

"House, I did the autopsy, I was there and I missed the internal bleed. It's airtight. You on the other hand have nothing to do with it. The form got lost and the patient never mentioned the hemophilia."

"But he did mention it. I was there", House countered.

"House, don't you get this? This is serious. Nothing you can make go away by flirting with Cuddy or a week's suspension. We could lose our license, hell we could end up in jail."

House took a deep breath and cocked his head.

"That sounds horrifying. So why are you so eager on throwing yourself in?", he finally asked.

Wilson felt uncomfortable.

"Well, I mean, you're my friend and I don't want you to get into trouble", he mumbled.

"Right, and I'm the pathetic, egocentric bastard who doesn't give a damn about you", House replied.

"Oh come on, House. You know that's not what I think."

"Of course not. After all these years, after stealing your food, after abusing you as my personal Vicodin dealer and even after taking Amber from you, you still hang around here because you are convinced deep down I'm a good guy. But when I for once try to help you, try to be a good friend for you, you won't let me. Because you feel guilty. You don't try to save my ass because you are worried about me. You are worried about yourself and your damn guilt-ridden conscience. Imagine I would lose my job and you don't. That thought must be unbearable for you."

"House, shut up!", Wilson yelled. He stood there and stared House in the eyes. He was about to yell again but suddenly he turned around and walked some steps away from his friend.

The oncologist tried to calm down.

"You know maybe you are right. Maybe I do feel guilty. It was my fault after all, so I'm sort of entitled to that feeling. But if you already know that it would make me feel better if I could take all the blame, then you should let me do this as a good friend."

House laughed. "So you're saying I have to let you save my ass and let you go to jail in order to prove you that I'm a good friend? That's pathetic."

"And so are you! I already know you are a good friend. That's why you stopped me from giving the speech on euthanasia. That's why you warned me of marrying wife two and three. And that's why after all these years of stealing my food, abusing my prescription pad and yes even after being involved in Amber's accident I can't walk away from you."

"You are not proposing again here, are you?", House asked confused and Wilson laughed at that comment.

"Don't worry."

It was hopeless. House wanted to save Wilson, Wilson wanted to protect House and both were willing to throw in their license and maybe even their freedom in order to save the other one. But of course none of them would watch the other guy turning himself in.

* * *

"Listen, Cuddy is waiting for me. She wants to know about the missing form from the file", House told him.

"You want me to come along?", Wilson wanted to know.

House thought it over for a moment.

"I actually don't know", he said and walked on leaving that decision for Wilson who hesitated for a moment before he followed his friend inside.

Turns out they were both wanted in Cuddy's office since the cops had rejoined their boss once more.

House glanced at them when he entered and threw Cuddy an inquiring view.

"These gentlemen asked me where they could find you so I told them I expected you here anyway. Good thing you brought Dr. Wilson along", she informed him and took a seat behind her desk leaving the floor to the officers.

"Dr. Wilson? Dr. House? We have some questions concerning yesterday's incident", one of them started and signaled them to take a seat.

"Let me just inform you that you don't have to answer any question if it would result in blaming yourselves", he added.

"You are reading us our rights already?", House wondered.

"No, Sir. It's just general information. You can also bring in your lawyer."

Wilson tried to improve his appearance. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt to spend two minutes changing the shirt. He looked even worse than House at the moment. At least his clothes did. The general appearance was probably a tie. They both looked like shit, tired, hung-over and annoyed.

* * *

"Dr. House, did Jason Milton mention his bleeder condition to you during the exam?"

House raised an eyebrow and knocked his cane on the floor a couple of times.

"Are you sure you want to start with that question?"

The officer looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I thought you would start with a question I will actually answer but you go right with the heavy stuff so I have to shut up. Sorry."

The cop made a note and faced them again.

"Alright, so an easy question. Dr. Wilson, was there anything in the patient's file indicating his pre existing condition?"

"Of course he gets the easy one", House grumped and Cuddy shot him a glare immediately.

Slowly Wilson shook his head. "No, there wasn't."

"So Mr. Milton didn't inform you about it on let's say the entrance form every patient has to fill in once they walk into the clinic? At least that's the regulation in this place according to the nurse."

House sneered and shook his head. There you go…

Wilson looked at him for a moment before answering.

"There was no such form in the file."

The officer turned to House.

"Now that's interesting, isn't it? Are you sure you don't want to say something?"

"Yep!", House replied and avoided any direct eye contact.

"Yeah, so would I probably. We got two theories right now. Either there never was a form which means you broke the clinic's regulation and missed out on a very important fact about your patient which leaded directly to his death. Or there was a form, you screwed up anyway and once the patient had died you got rid of the only evidence indicating that Mr. Milton had announced his condition. You two are very good friends, right? At least that's what we learned from your coworkers today. And as department heads it couldn't be hard to get his file once the kid was down in the morgue."

"That's ridiculous. If the form had been there the patient would be still alive because my friend here would have read it", House told him now.

"So there never was a form, Dr. House?"

House sighed.

"That's not what I said. And you two genius cops forgot about option number three. There was a form, the patient had written down his condition and it got lost on its way to oncology. Which means this isn't my fault since I didn't miss to mention it and it wasn't Dr. Wilson's mistake either."

The second cop had been quiet so far. He kept himself busy reading in some file but now he stepped forward.

"Dr. House, are you still on drugs?"

The diagnostician leaned back and sneered again.

"Damn it. I knew this dope incident in the boy's room in high school would fall back on me one day."

"Why is this important?", Cuddy interrupted now.

"He wouldn't be the first doctor screwing up because he's practicing while on drugs", the cop explained and turned to House again.

"Well, doctor?"

House reached for his cane and got up.

"This conversation is over", he stated and wanted to leave.

"Then you should expect us to pay you a visit very soon."

"Good to know, gives me time to go find that lawyer and bake you guys a cake", House explained and left.

* * *

Cuddy followed him.

"House, can we please talk now?"

"Believe me, the less you know the better for you, Cuddy", he told her and was on his way out but she got into his way.

"Forget that Wilson is your best friend for one moment. Who made the mistake?"

House smirked and shook his head. "Wrong question."

"Why?"

"Because you can't learn anything from it. Either I forget he's my friend and blame it all on him and you would wonder whether I could really be such an ass or I don't forget it and blame myself and you would think I'm self destructive enough to lie for him."

"House, come on. What do you want me to do?", Cuddy got annoyed.

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's your job to deal with stuff like this. Thank God I don't work in administration."

"Keep going like this and you won't work at all", she told him and walked back to her office.

"Cuddy!", he yelled after her and she turned around.

He hesitated for a moment and looked down at his cane.

"My mistake caused his mistake. And that would make it my mistake, I guess", he explained eventually.

"Are you saying this because he is your friend?"

"No, because he is my friend I'm saying it out loud", he replied and this time he really left.

Cuddy gave him a nod and went back to her office where Wilson was still dealing with the cops.

* * *

Wilson looked a little bit lost when he watched House and Cuddy walking out. He thought about just getting up and joining them but the way the officers eyeballed him made him decide otherwise.

"I guess that just leaves you, Dr. Wilson."

"Did Dr. House tell you anything about the missing clinic form?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I think you should ask him yourself."

The officer took a deep breath. Those damn doctors sticking together and covering each other's ass.

"Sir, at the moment it looks as if this was Dr. House's fault. He could face charges for negligent homicide pretty soon. Given your involvement in that incident it would really help your situation if you cooperated with us. You are a witness you'll have to tell us anyway. At the latest in court under oath."

"I'll try my luck with shutting up", Wilson decided and walked out as well. He nearly bumped into Cuddy who was on her way back inside. She looked at him questioningly but he only held the door open for her and was out of her sight seconds later.

"We need Dr. House's address and phone number in case anymore questions come up. And maybe Dr. Wilson's as well. Just to be on the save side.", she was greeted by the cops. She gave it to them and was glad once the men were out of her office.

* * *

**Reviews are welcome! :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

House and Wilson met at home again just in time to argue about who would provide lunch that day. House finally decided that he would order and Wilson would pay. A fair share of duties was important.

An hour later the diagnostician enjoyed his meal while Wilson poked in his Chinese takeout without actually eating.

Finally he put the box aside. "Are you still on drugs?", he asked out of the blue.

House nearly chocked and coughed a couple of times to get the rice out of his trachea.

"What?", he finally managed to say. He looked surprised. That question had really caught him with his pants down.

"Well, it's just usually you would love to prove everybody wrong. Last time you took a pee in my living room. But today you ran away which was always one way of you to deal with stuff. By not dealing with it."

House put his meal aside as well and folded his arms.

"I'm taking meds for my leg. Always have, always will. I just changed recently from narcotics to some non-addictive meds."

"I'm talking about the heavy stuff. Vicodin or worse."

House raised an eyebrow. "You want me to pee in your godson's cup again? Bring it on."

"I want you to tell me the truth", Wilson retorted.

Slowly House got annoyed.

"This is your number one problem at the moment? The cops just want to close the file. They are looking for a punching bag and come up with all that shit."

"Well I'm sorry I have doubts concerning you and drugs. I wonder where that might come from", Wilson defended himself.

"Yeah right, never trust an addict. Very nice", House got up and grabbed his keys. "By the way the answer is no. Surprisingly I'm still clean despite the headaches you're giving me lately. "

He wanted to leave but Wilson refused to let him go.

"You won't just run away this time", he told him and stood between House and the front door.

"Don't be ridiculous", House scoffed and tried to get around him.

"House, we need to deal with this", the oncologist shouted and shoved House away from him causing him to stumble back. House kept his balance and held his thigh for a moment before he glared at him.

"Maybe you should do this again. Get angry for once, Wilson. Tell me what you really think!", House challenged him and walked towards him closing him in once more between the door and himself.

"Get away from me!", Wilson told him but House didn't move. He was just staring at him.

"Come on. Let it out. Why are we deep down in shit right now?", the diagnostician yelled right in his face.

Wilson closed his eyes and tried to keep calm but he could feel his blood pressure was rising. House and his damn games.

"Because you made a mistake!!!", he finally exploded.

"Because you are a lazy ass who couldn't care less about his patients. Trying to get rid of any possible responsibility and eager on shoving us your genius in the face over and over again. Hey, everybody look at me. I'm the brilliant diagnostician. Clearly too smart for keeping files. This was bound to happen sooner or later because a chimp would hand in a better paperwork than you do! For years I've been working my butt off killing three marriages in the process to make sure I play by the rules so I would be a department head one day. And what for? So that you can walk in and destroy everything in two minutes. Thank you very much!!!"

House raised his eyebrows during that speech and thought about stepping back voluntarily since he couldn't predict what Wilson would do next. He seemed really pissed off.

Eventually Wilson was done and caught his breath. Disbelievingly he looked at House not sure whether he had really done this. House cocked his head and took a deep breath.

"That's good to know, isn't it?", House mumbled and this time the oncologist didn't get in his way when he left.

House thought it was a good time for a ride on his bike. That would keep him busy for the next two hours. Wilson thought it was a good moment to call his lawyer.

* * *

After an extended ride House ran out of places to go. Usually when he was mad at Wilson he would have gone home, killed the phone and spent an evening with alcohol and take-out food in front of his TV. But his new home included Wilson. Ever since they had moved in together he would escape to his office which was not available at the moment. Plus he had missed half his lunch and so he found himself a pizza in some junkfood place. There he spent the next hours pondering about his friendship with Wilson.

House was very proud that he had successfully managed to stay off the Vicodin. He had worked really hard for this. And he had assumed that Wilson would trust him. But obviously he didn't and House realized that he probably never would. He was hurt by that thought and that's what kept him away from home right now. On the other hand Wilson was a doctor who knew about addicts and their relapse quotes. But more important he knew House and his history of drug abuse. House couldn't really blame him since he wouldn't trust himself either. Still it hurt.

House ordered another beer and for the first time since they had lost their patient he was thinking about his own future. Maybe he should really take care for himself for once. Not because he was an egocentric jerk who didn't give a crap about his best friend. But simply because he was on a good way away from his self destructive way of living. He was a doctor again with a license and a good team and he didn't want to lose all of this again.

But from the way the cops had treated him he also knew that it might have been too late for that. It was worth trying though. First step was getting a lawyer. Damn, these guys always charged so much.

* * *

When he finally arrived back at home Wilson was still awake. Watching TV and waiting for him. House sat down on his site of that ugly orange couch and put up his feet on the table.

For a while they were watching a basketball game but Wilson interrupted the silence eventually.

"That was a stupid thing to ask. I'm sorry, House. And I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Because you used the past couple of hours to search this place and you didn't find any drugs in my sock drawer?", his friend answered still paying attention to the game.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "No, because I actually trust you. You were right. These cops will dig out anything that helps them proving us guilty."

"Not much they can dig out about you", House mumbled.

"Hey, last time we were pulled over by the police I was the one with the arrest warrant."

House smirked. "So what? I got arrested as well. Just because of you!"

"No, because you didn't want to attend your dad's funeral."

House smirked remembering how Wilson tried to convince the cop that he was not a violent person endangering the public safety. "That was a nice trip. Happy days!"

Wilson nodded in agreement. "Still, I'm sorry. Guess I had to yell at somebody. I'm surprised you stay that calm."

"That's just because I don't blame other people for my mistakes", House explained and had difficulties keeping a serious face.

"Right", Wilson chuckled and shook his head. "That's how egocentric you are. Other people are not even allowed to make your mistakes. But you will have to share this one with me. It was our mistake not just yours."

"I'm sorry I didn't write it down, Wilson. And for the record I'm not calm. I'm just a good actor", House revealed.

* * *

He took the remote and switched off the TV.

"I called my lawyer today", he announced and looked at Wilson. He received a nod. "Me too."

Wilson took a sip from his beer. "He told me to blame you for everything. You know like: "How can I know about this when the referring doctor screws up the patient's history?""

House sneered. "Yeah. Mine told me to admit my mistake but point out that you should have noticed the missing form and so you are to blame as well. You know like: "a problem shared is a problem halved.""

They looked at each other and finally they burst out laughing. Maybe it was a lame try to get rid of some of the pressure and desperation that had built up during the past days or maybe they were just glad that they were ok again but this turned into a full-blown laughing fit.

Wilson finally wiped a tear from his eye while House stood up and got another round of beer from their fridge.

"This really sucks", he announced and handed the bottle to his friend. "We can't get both out of this. You know, I'm not afraid of going to jail or losing my license. Ok, I am but my biggest fear is that our friendship might not survive this", House explained while focusing on the bottle in his hand.

Wilson stared at him astonished. House had never been that honest with him.

"What are you saying?", he asked him.

"There is a reason why there are hardly any diagnostic departments around. The world can live without them. Oncologists on the other hand are needed. Stupid cancer!"

Wilson shook his head. "Actually I think you save more lives than I do. I just watch people die and try to help them with their agony."

"Well, that's worth something. Nobody should die in agony and pain", House mumbled.

"Yeah, and nobody should have to live in pain", Wilson added and sighed.

They got silent again for a while.

"You know what? Let's make a deal. We don't throw each other in and we don't self sacrifice. We just see what happens and whoever bites the bullet…., well bites the bullet I guess."

House thought it over and finally he nodded.

"Fine. But you know what that means?"

"What?"

"We both have to find new lawyers."

They finished their beer and called it a day. Wilson finally got his shower, House read a magazine and an hour later they were both asleep. Still worried about their future but glad that they were still friends.

* * *

The following morning, well actually it was nearly noon, they were both woken up by the door bell. Of course Wilson was the one who answered it. That was the first thing House made clear when they moved in together. Answering the door or the phone was the job of the person with two healthy legs. Wilson opened the door and found Cuddy standing out there.

"We have a problem!", she informed him.

"No kidding?", Wilson mumbled but she ignored him and walked past him into the living room. Apart from a couch and the TV it was still pretty empty. Except for the moving boxes of course.

"Wow, I really love what you guys have done with this place", she stated. "Where is House?"

Wilson slowly closed the door and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Asleep."

"Could you wake him up, please?", she said and took a seat.

"HOUSE! Get up!", Wilson yelled immediately and opened the fridge. Breakfast would be lousy this morning.

He started making coffee when House joined them in the living room two minutes later. He yawned noisily and had a dozy look on his face.

His mood didn't improve when he saw his boss.

"Can't we do this in the afternoon?, he snapped and limped over to the fridge. He got the same disappointing result like his friend a minute ago and sat down on one of the bar stools rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"It's eleven o'clock. I didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep."

"You mentioned a problem?", Wilson wanted to get on with this.

"Well, that lawyer means business. He's out to get the both of you. He sewed the hospital for malpractice and he literally teams up with the DA to make sure they get you. The cops showed up again and confiscated old patient files to review your guy's paperwork."

She pursed her lips and glanced at House. "That's not good news for you. They dig out everything. Your Vicodin addiction and the way you provided him with the drugs. I wouldn't wonder if Tritter shows up, too."

"See, this is exactly why you shouldn't wake us up this early", House received a cup of coffee and a nod from Wilson.

"That's true. You probably have to get up early in prison. So we should get as much sleep as possible now."

Cuddy looked surprised. "Are you guys high?"

House made a sad face. "Is there anybody in this world who believes that I'm drug free nowadays?" He sighed.

"How can you guys stay that calm while they try to destroy your lives?", she asked now.

Wilson shrugged. "You think it would help if we get a panic attack?"

"Yeah, relax Cuddy. You might get this place after all very soon. Good thing we never unpacked", House told her and put another spoon full of sugar in his cup. Wilson's coffee was really dangerous.

Cuddy stood up and got her purse.

"I don't believe this. Our lawyer works on the case. He needs your statement. Can you come in later?"

"Alright. But breakfast first. Come on, Wilson, my treat", House announced and got up as well.

Wilson looked at Cuddy. "Can't miss that opportunity. Don't worry, Lisa, we'll be there later."

The two men went to their bedrooms and got dressed. Cuddy threw another view around the nearly empty place. She shook her head once more and left.

* * *

Once they were really awake and ready to leave they skipped the idea of breakfast and went out for lunch instead because they were starving.

House even brought along his wallet voluntarily. Wilson checked it twice and was surprised when he found 50 dollars in there. Two hours later they walked into the PPTH to meet with the lawyer.

"So where is that guy?", House wondered and studied the board next to the elevator.

Wilson chuckled. "You don't know where to find the lawyer?"

"He always comes to my office or Cuddy drags me down into her office."

"They are up on the fifth floor", Wilson told him and was ready to get on the elevator when Cuddy called them over to the clinic.

"We are already waiting for you guys."

They both experienced a déjà vu when they took a seat on Cuddy's couch again except this time they were interrogated by the lawyer. Took them only 5 minutes to tell the story again.

"I doubt it we can stand this one in court. We should agree on a settlement", was his conclusion.

"Well, these people are very eager on pressing charges. That's going to be expensive", Cuddy sighed.

The lawyer shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned we have a chance to get the hospital out of this."

He looked at Wilson and House. "The personal consequences for the doctors involved though, well that will be difficult. But that's not my priority here."

House smirked at Cuddy. "Of course not. The hospital comes first, right?"

Cuddy blushed and lowered her gaze.

"Any questions?", the lawyer asked them and was out of the door seconds later when nobody answered him.

"Well, I guess we are done here", Wilson stated and got up. House followed him.

"Guys, I'm sorry", Cuddy said suddenly and both of them looked at her. "Mr. Milton pressed charges against you and his lawyer knows that this is your personal mistake. I have to do what's best for the hospital. We have a reputation to lose. Still, I will do everything I can to help you."

"You know, Dr. Cuddy", Wilson started, "The hospital might have a reputation to lose that's true. You on the other hand don't any longer."

He left the office and Cuddy looked at House. Tears showed up in her eyes but he simply shrugged.

"It's ok, Cuddy. I needed the lawyer so many times he sends me Christmas Cards every year. Wilson on the other hand was a hard working fellow for years now he screws up once and you let him down like this. I would also be pissed if I was him."

"House, don't you think I feel terrible about this?", she asked him and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Hmm, do you really think I care about that?"

With this he left as well but he came back seconds later.

"I do actually. Care about you. This is not your fault. We put you in a tough situation here. Problem is your pity won't make it go away. And your usual professional way of handling this makes you look like an ass right now."

And before Cuddy could answer him he was out and joined Wilson who was already waiting in his car.

* * *

The two friends decided to go grocery shopping. Wilson usually avoided taking House along because they would always end up arguing. House accused Wilson of being a damn vegetarian since he would only eat that healthy shit and Wilson would predict House an early death due to his unhealthy diet. They would never find a compromise. Today Wilson didn't care. He pushed around the trolley while House filled it with his favorites and the oncologist had to admit that those groceries might not be really healthy but damn tasty.

When they arrived at home they were already awaited by two well known faces. Stupid cop 1 and 2 were standing in front of the door and had only appeared moments ago. Wilson parked his car on the side of the street and the two doctors looked over at their visitors.

"Think we can make it to Mexico?", House wondered.

"Canada is closer", Wilson replied.

"But Mexico is hotter. If you know what I mean", House said and winked at him.

"See, this is the moment when it sucks the most to have only one friend. When you get arrested together and you need someone to come up with the bail out."

House chuckled. "Good thing my only friend has three ex wives. And with all the alimony they should be able to pay for the both of us. What do you say, I take Julie you take Bonnie."

"Come on, let's get this over with. After all it's not the green mile", the oncologist said and got out of the car.

"Yet", House mumbled and followed him.

* * *

**Reviews are still welcome. :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry. Took me a while this time.**

* * *

"Comes in handy that you guys live together", they were greeted by the cops.

"Yeah, we like it, too", House replied.

"Told you we would come to visit. Got that cake?", the second officer asked him.

"If I lie about that one will you use it against me in court?"

"Officers, is there anything we can do for you?", Wilson interrupted now.

"Sure, you could accompany us to the station since you are under arrest."

House and Wilson exchanged a quick view.

"Which one of us?", House wanted to know. His voice had lost its sarcastic note suddenly.

"Both of you. You are under arrest for negligent homicide in the case of Jason Milton. You have the right to remain…", he was cut off immediately.

"Oh cut the crap!", House told him while Wilson groaned and rubbed the back of his neck.

"We are all adults so I guess we can do this without getting violent", the cop told them and pointed to the car.

"Let's go!"

"Did you hear that? He called me an adult", House mumbled to Wilson while they walked over to the police car.

"Says a lot about police work these days", Wilson retorted.

They were both searched quickly and House groaned when his pain meds were confiscated while his cane disappeared in the trunk.

* * *

Half an hour later Wilson sat nervously at a table in an otherwise empty room. He hadn't seen House in quite some time but guessed his friend was in a similar situation. Finally a guy entered the room and took a seat.

"Good evening, Dr. Wilson. My name is Frank Ross. I'm the supervising detective in this case. Did you reach your lawyer?"

Wilson nodded. "He's on his way."

"Mind to answer some questions while we wait for him?", Ross asked him while he browsed through a file.

"The only reason I want my lawyer is so that he tells me what I should tell you. So yes, I do mind answering your questions."

Ross starred at him for a moment. Eventually he shut the file and got up.

"Fine. It is your right after all. Then I'll go see your buddy first. At least we don't have to wait for his lawyer."

"House didn't call his lawyer?", Wilson asked him immediately.

The detective shook his head. "No. Obviously he likes to speak for himself. See you later."

Ross left and Wilson sighed. "Damn it, House!", he mumbled and shook his head.

* * *

House was bored. He was rocking back in his chair inspecting the grey ceiling. Every now and then he was tipping his fingers on the table top in front of him. Finally he leaned forward bringing all four chair legs back to the ground. He sighed and checked his watch. Damn lazy cops. He was starving and his leg hurt. House had managed his pain better during the past months staying totally off the narcotics but still he wouldn't refrain from pain meds completely and it had been a while since his last pill.

Finally he got a visitor in his boredom. Detective Ross entered and introduced himself.

"Wow, I almost started feeling pity for the patients I keep waiting in the clinic. Thank God you finally showed up to prevent that."

Ross raised his eyebrow. "Well, maybe I should come back in two hours then."

House narrowed his eyes. Don't jerk around with the guy who decides where you will spend the night.

"Or maybe you could tell me what I'm doing here", he suggested in a nicer tone.

Ross took a seat. "I spent a nice afternoon browsing through your old patient files. Is it normal to finish the paperwork six to eight weeks after the actual treatment?"

"I'm busy."

"With treating one patient a week?"

House rolled his eyes. "You can ask any doctor. We are busy people, sometimes the paperwork piles up. Then we take one of our rare days off and make up for it."

Ross nodded. "And you celebrate these rare occasions by changing your handwriting? Most of these cases were not even documented by you, Dr. House."

"I'm a department head. My employees do the actual treating while I do the thinking part. So they do the paperwork", House explained.

"They must be very trustworthy. You signed all these files which means you can be held responsible for everything. Did you even read one of these?"

House threw him a stern look but didn't answer him.

"I also took a glance at the files from your clinic patients. Same picture and the nurses from the clinic told us that you are sort of famous for your incomplete paperwork."

"Will you ever get to the point of this?", House finally asked him annoyed.

"Well, it's an easy equation. Your patient died because his file missed an important pre existing condition. His attending doctor has a history of sloppy documentation. So let me ask you, Mr. Diagnostician, might there be a connection between these two facts?"

"I told you guys yesterday. There was already a form telling me that he was a bleeder. No need to write it down again", House explained.

"Dr. Wilson said there was no form once the file reached his hands. Where did it go?"

House chuckled. "That must be the dumbest question I've heard so far. How would I know that? It got lost somewhere on its way upstairs."

Ross glanced at him. "That's not really convincing, Dr. House."

House sighed. "Sorry, that's what happened. I could come up with a more interesting lie if you preferred that."

"So this happens often? Important patient information get lost? Is there a lost and found office?"

House looked pissed causing Ross to sneer.

"Yes, look who I'm asking. I better ask one of your employees/secretaries about that."

"Listen, maybe it takes a little bit longer in my department sometimes but eventually the paperwork is done and complete. There has never been a problem with it", House yelled now. He was totally annoyed by that idiot.

"Until now. But now this 23 year old man died because somebody screwed up. And it was either you or your friend. And given that he is obviously obsessed with order and organization my money is on you at the moment."

House kept his eyes on the table top. He didn't need a lawyer to tell him that he shouldn't engross that discussion.

* * *

Ross took some notes and looked back at him.

"I read in your file that you were practicing medicine for years while being on Vicodin. That's a stage three narcotic. A former colleague of mine even investigated against you three years ago."

"Does this file also tell you that I spent two months in a rehab facility last summer to get off the Vicodin? Successfully! And it should also say that the case your colleague was so eager on pushing through never made it in front of a jury", House informed him.

"That was the case suspecting you to deal in drugs. Still they found a huge amount of pills in your place. I wonder how such a drug addiction could influence your work as a doctor."

"It didn't at all. What's your point? Yes, I was on pain medication and never screwed up once. Now I'm clean and a patient dies. Doesn't really work for your drug theory."

"It does if you are still on drugs. You wouldn't be the first one to relapse. And as a doctor with full access to all sorts of drugs you are probably part of a risk group", Ross told him.

"I'm not on opiates!", House stated.

"You want to prove that?", Ross asked him and brought up the well known plastic cup from his jacket.

"To play along with your stupid speculations? No thank you. Show me a court order then I'll pee in the damn cup."

Ross smirked. "Fine. I think we are done for the moment."

He got up and walked over to the door. But suddenly he turned around.

"You know it's interesting. You might be off the Vicodin now but Dr. Wilson's prescribing philosophy shows some irregularities. Seems as if he prescribed too many pills over the years. And the limitation period on these things has not expended yet. Think about it. You sure you didn't just forget to write it down?"

Ross didn't wait for an answer. He left the room and a perplexed House in it.

" Goddamn asshole!", the diagnostician finally mumbled.

* * *

Wilson's lawyer had shown up in the meantime telling his client to shut up until he got all the information concerning that case himself. So the second try of an interrogation was even shorter than the first one.

"Well, the custodian judge went home two hours ago so you guys will have to stay here", Ross informed the oncologist and left the room to return to his office.

Neither House nor Wilson was thrilled by the idea of spending the night in a cell but their opinion didn't really matter. At least House got his pain meds back so he would be pain free again.

Wilson sat down on a small bench while House immediately occupied the bed.

"Our groceries are still in the car", Wilson mumbled lost in thought.

House chuckled. "Nice to see you prioritize on the important things."

"So what did he say?", Wilson wanted to know.

"He thinks I'm an irresponsible drug addict who shouldn't even be allowed to hand out napkins to patients with colds."

"Why didn't you bring in your lawyer?", Wilson went on and House rolled his eyes. Enough stupid questions for one day.

"Can we go back to the subject of our ice cream smelting in your trunk?", he snapped.

"That's what you get a lawyer for. So in cases like this he shows up and helps you", the oncologist ignored his comment and stayed on the subject.

"I'm going to lose my job pretty soon. I have to save money here. The guy charges 400 dollars an hour."

"You will only lose your job if you are proven guilty and your expensive lawyer could prevent that. Maybe."

"If I let you have the bed will you please shut up?", House sighed and looked at him.

"Try me!", Wilson challenged him with a grin on his face.

"I'll try sleeping instead", House mumbled and turned on his side facing the wall now. He wasn't sleepy but totally annoyed. Wilson wasn't fun if he couldn't walk away from his lectures. So he tried shutting him up by total ignorance. That strategy worked for five minutes because starring at a wall was even worse than listening to Wilson. He turned around again and sat up.

* * *

"He said he could get you for prescribing me too much Vicodin", House finally admitted.

"But those were legitimate prescription", Wilson replied and starred at him with a shocked expression on his face.

"They dug out hundreds of pills in my place back then. Obviously I didn't need them all."

Wilson sighed while thinking about all the moments when House had chased him around the hospital asking for another prescription until the oncologist had finally given in just so House had left him alone. He had always tried to persuade himself that House really needed the pills. Plus he had been convinced it was saver to make sure that House gets his Vicodin since the diagnostician would find a way to get the pills and a huge amount of trouble as well.

"So Tritter gets us after all", Wilson finally announced and looked at his friend. Guilt was written all over House's face.

"You couldn't just call your lawyer, could you?"

House shrugged. "Still could actually. I never got my phone call."

They were silent for a while. House glanced at Wilson trying to figure out his mental state. Trying to figure out if it was save for him to spend the night with him in a locked cell.

"I wish we would have that ice cream right now", he mumbled eventually.

Wilson looked up and smirked for a second.

"Oh House. Why can't I just walk away from you?", he sighed.

The diagnostician raised his eyebrows and looked at the bars.

"Because we are locked in right now?", he stated putting on an innocent smile like a school boy who had just broken a window with his ball.

* * *

It turned into a really long night. Both of them got lost in their thoughts and they barely changed another word during the next hours.

Wilson tried to figure out how deep in trouble he really was and to be honest he wondered whether their friendship was really worth going down like this. It was still possible. He had told them that there was no form in the file. He could tell them about the way House had handled paperwork in the past. And given his own clean record they would probably believe him. He could get out of this and get back to work. But he would be Judas again. Around two am Wilson reached a point he rarely experienced in his life. He cursed House and their damn friendship. There had been moments when he just wanted to run away, kick House out of his life and forget about him completely. Once he had done it. After Amber had died. But four months later he had come back to the PPTH because he had missed House and all the fun they had together. And even his advices which were so damn honest that they hurt most of the time. Still he welcomed them since House was right most of the friendship mattered so much to him that he couldn't let it go. And that made him angry at that moment because he knew he would pay a high price for it.

House had other problems to worry about. Sure, they had agreed on letting fate decide whose life will get destroyed but the situation had changed. Ross had a problem. He had a nice theory or probably two or three. But he couldn't prove it. He couldn't prove that House had missed out on writing down the haemophilia. He had nothing but circumstantial evidence. That's why he had increased the pressure on him by threatening to get his best friend for everything he could find. And that rich moron's lawyer could probably even find out whether Wilson had ever stolen candy as a kid. The problem was, Wilson was busted anyway. Either the file had informed him about the patient's condition which meant he would have missed to inject him with the live saving clotting factors or there was nothing in the file about it so he had missed out on getting a decent history himself.

Making a stupid mistake and losing a patient was bad enough but together with the drug thing it could make sure that Wilson disappeared in jail for a long time. And that wasn't fair. House had been the addict and the annoying jerk constantly manipulating Wilson into writing him another script. House glanced at his friend for a moment. The oncologist seemed deep in thoughts. And right that moment House hated him. His rational mind told him to let him down. To save his own butt instead since Wilson couldn't be saved anyway. But that annoying, always lecturing pain in the neck meant so much to him that he couldn't do that although he knew he would pay a high price for it.

Around three am Wilson stood up to stretch his back and groaned since the past hours had been uncomfortable. House offered him the bed but the oncologist was worried about House's leg and declined the offer. After a while he sat down again leaned against the wall stretched out his legs and fell asleep. He would pay for the uncomfortable position with a stiff neck the following day. House watched him for a while before he rolled over to face the wall again and fell asleep for three hours as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter is a little bit longer this time. Thanks for your reviews. :-)**

* * *

House and Wilson finally could leave around one pm the following day. But not before the judge told them to stay within town. Cuddy had shown up and brought along her check book writing out a big sum to get them both out jail. She had tried to reach them but when she didn't succeed she knew immediately where to look for them. House and Wilson were not really thrilled by her presence but they guessed she would feel guilty enough to bail them out and they were right. She had even brought House's lawyer along since she could imagine that he had been too stubborn to call him himself.

Anthony Bishop was not pleased when Cuddy had called him in the morning asking him to show up at the arraignment of his client since he was busy. But Cuddy was a resolute woman and convinced him to get his a** over there. He sighed and promised to be there but he was sure this would show up on House's bill.

"Why didn't you call me last night?", he asked him now while House got his wallet, cane and keys back.

"Forgot your number", House explained.

"I'm in the yellow pages."

"Forgot your name", House wanted to leave but Bishop held him back.

"You still don't get this, right? You are charged with a serious crime. You'll have to show up in court in front of a jury and somehow you managed to piss off the DA so he wants to make it extra sure you lose this case."

House starred at him for a moment. "Thank God I have such an ambitious lawyer who will fight for me."

"Be in my office tomorrow at nine am or you will have to find a new one", Bishop told him and was on his way out.

"I hope your secretary knows how to make coffee. Nine am is not really my get up time these days."

Bishop turned around and shrugged. "Set an alarm clock or I'm off the case. I won't cry myself to sleep if I lose you as my client."

"Fine. I'll be there", House finally told him and left.

Wilson was nowhere to find. Unlike House he was actually glad to see his lawyer and went with him to his office to discuss their strategy. So the diagnostician found a taxi and went home cursing Wilson since he had to pay for the ride himself.

* * *

Walter Harper had not lied when he had threatened to move heaven and earth to make sure the "murderers" of his client's son would pay for their mistake. While the DA was busy charging them with negligent homicide Harper dug out everything concerning the Tritter case making sure he dropped off any information to Ross and his colleagues. So suddenly Wilson also faced a charge for violation of the narcotics laws. And House found himself in the role of their number one witness.

They were visited by Ross again who confronted them with the latest development and he made it extra clear to House that he had to tell the truth concerning this matter at least in court under oath.

That piece of news didn't really smooth the atmosphere in their apartment. For three weeks they had not been at work but had spent practically every minute together which increased the tension slowly.

They barely changed a word and avoided each other more and more.

House would get on his bike cruising aimlessly around New Jersey (yeah, it was out of town but who cares?) while Wilson preferred the more environment friendly alternative and went out for long walks.

One day however House saw the silver Volvo parked near the cemetery and he knew what that meant. When he returned to Princeton three hours later it was already getting dark. The Volvo was still there.

He got off his bike and grabbed his cane. Ignoring the old guy telling him that they would close the cemetery in five minutes he walked past him and steered right towards the well known grave. He had found Wilson there before whenever the oncologist had an extra hard day and had been struggling with his grieve. As usual his friend sat on a bench only few feet away from Amber's gravesite. Wilson was leaning forward resting his head in his hands. His mind was obviously far away. He didn't even notice when House sat down next to him. Probably he also hadn't noticed that he was slightly shivering since he had been sitting in the cold for hours.

"So did you tell Amber how I got you into trouble once more?", House finally started.

Wilson startled and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thought I just make sure you didn't freeze out here. By the way your lips are turning blue."

Wilson sighed and sat up. He had totally lost track of time and was surprised when he noticed the darkening sky.

And suddenly he felt the coldness. He was freezing like hell.

"She would have certainly kicked your ass", the oncologist smirked now.

"Oh yes. Wife one to three was nothing compared to her", House replied.

"But she was the only one who never tried to convince me that I should get rid of you", Wilson admitted.

House nodded and looked at the gravesite for a moment. Finally he got up.

"Come on. Let's get out of here before Grandpa locks us in. I'll buy you dinner."

Wilson looked surprised and threw a view over the cemetery.

"Ok, we certainly should go before people start rising from their graves celebrating the end of the world."

"Hey, it's not the first time I invite you", House defended himself when they got up and walked towards the exit.

* * *

Two weeks later they sat on the couch in their place and watched a basketball game. It was the night before their court trial. To celebrate what could be their last day together in freedom they had gone wild and ordered any take-out food they could come up with although they regretted the Indian food already as they were sure they would never get rid of that smell.

"We never talked about the drug thing", House suddenly mumbled.

Wilson looked up from his pizza.

"What's there to talk?", he wondered.

"I will take over responsibility for it", House explained and the tone in his voice told his friend that he was very serious about it.

"What do you mean? You are not even charged with that one."

"I was the drug addict, it was my problem. And just my damn addiction made it yours. They will not get you for this."

"House, we had a deal. And they are right, I did prescribe too many pills."

House shook his head. "The deal was about that's kid's death. And they are wrong. You didn't write too many prescriptions. I'm just too good at forging your signature."

"You will not lie about this in court!", Wilson told him.

"You don't have to call it a lie. They know everything about us anyway. They know I forged your signature once. You told Tritter yourself. So why not more often?"

He looked at the floor and sighed. This wasn't easy for him. Finally he raised his head and met his friend's eyes throwing him a stern look.

"Wilson, you are all about protecting me and making sure I'm ok. Please, don't make me watch you going to prison for my mistakes. Even I can feel guilt sometimes."

Wilson could see it in his eyes. He already felt guilty. House was already afraid of losing his best friend. But these circumstances would makeit even worse for him. And deep down inside he knew that House was right.

Still this was a tough situation and so he hesitated.

"Damn it, Wilson. If you don't agree on this I'll rob a bank and become your cellmate so I can kick your ass every single day", House threatened him.

"You can't kick my ass", Wilson retorted.

"You want me to prove it? Get up!"

Wilson laughed and shook his head. "No, thank you."

He sighed but eventually the oncologist nodded. "Ok. But if it doesn't work they will get you at least for the forged prescription."

House smirked. "They would do that anyway. Trust me, I'm a very convincing liar."

* * *

They returned to their expanded dinner when the door bell rang.

"We ordered something else?", Wilson wondered when he got up.

"A man who's about to lose his freedom deserves a last ride", House yelled after him making Wilson stop and wheel around.

"House, did you call a hooker?", he whispered as if their visitor was already present in the room.

"You think I share with you? I got you your own", he grinned and opened another beer.

"House…", Wilson whined when he finally reached the door and opened.

"House!!!", he yelled again this time in an angry tone.

Cuddy looked astonished at her head oncologist when he simply shouted out House's name.

"And good evening to you, Dr. Wilson", she greeted him finally.

"Sorry, Cuddy. Come in."

She walked inside the living room finding House surrounded by various bags, empty pizza cartons and

beer bottles.

"Want some dinner?", Wilson asked her when he sat down and punched House in his arm.

"Idiot", he mumbled. House turned around and looked at their guest.

"I would certainly not share her", he told him and concentrated on the TV again.

"How'd the case go, Cuddy? The hospital agreed on paying a huge amount of money to that already rich family so they can keep on digging up our past? No, wait. Your brilliant lawyer certainly found a way out since he made that case his absolute priority", House said while watching the game.

Cuddy sighed questioning her motives again that brought her here in the first place.

"We found a settlement", she told them.

"Good for you. So what do you want?", House asked her now.

"I don't know", she had trouble not to burst out in tears.

"It's just. I haven't seen you guys in weeks. I think I just wanted to make sure you are alright."

House chuckled. "You should have waited another day. Then we'll know for ourselves."

"We'll see you tomorrow anyway", Wilson added. "You will testify, right?"

"Well, it's not that I asked for it. When you receive a subpoena you can't just call in sick", she defended herself.

"So see you tomorrow then", Wilson said and joined House on watching the game again.

Cuddy stood there lost. She was desperate. Ever since she had suspended them she hadn't just lost two of her best doctors but also two very good friends.

There was nothing she could have done. That's what she had told herself during the past four weeks. Sometimes she nearly believed it. But she knew she was wrong. She should have forced House to pay more attention to his paperwork years ago. And even after Milton had died she should have helped them. That's what friends do. They don't choose their jobs over their friendships.

Wilson had sacrificed his job in order to save House from Vogler. House had risked his life to save Amber. That was true friendship. God, she envied both of them even now in their mess because she knew she had no such friend. Cuddy would have chosen such a friendship over her relationship with Lucas anytime.

* * *

"I'm sorry, guys", she finally admitted and this time she didn't fight off her tears. Both of them turned around. House smiled. "Of course you are", he simply said and got up to get her a tissue.

"Because you are almost as pathetic as Wilson when it comes to feeling guilty."

He handed over the Kleenex and signed her to take a seat.

Wilson went over to the fridge. "We only have beer. Sorry. No healthy stuff in here. You want some coffee?", he asked her.

She simply nodded since she was still crying.

"Actually we haven't seen each other because you told us to leave the hospital. We were angry at you for about two days. Then we got reasonable again, well Wilson did, and we decided it wasn't your fault", House told her now in an attempt to stop her outrage.

"Yes, and once you get used to not working and sleeping late it's really nice", Wilson added.

She chuckled for a moment. "House's behavior certainly rubbed off on you", she mumbled and cleaned her nose.

"Yeah, I'm so proud of my little Jimmy", House mocked him. Wilson handed Cuddy a cup of coffee and took a seat. Cuddy felt a lot better now. She sat between her two favorite men (although she would never admit it!) and was glad they were still talking to her.

They changed the subject though. Cuddy realized they were just enjoying a nice evening trying to focus on something else and she wouldn't ruin it for them. Although she did annoy them every other minute when she tried to follow the game but had to ask about the rules constantly. Finally she fell asleep right there between the two doctors. House saw it coming since she came closer and closer eventually leaning her head against his shoulder.

He glanced at her and then at Wilson. The oncologist just shrugged.

"Thank God. She doesn't know the first thing about basketball."

House smiled. "When you look like her you don't have to know anything", he mumbled.

Twenty minutes later the game was over and they decided to go to bed.

Carefully House held Cuddy's head while he got up and placed her down on the couch before bringing up her legs as well. She didn't notice it. Wilson covered her with a blanket and quietly they tiptoed out and into their bedrooms.

* * *

"This is ridiculous. That was three years ago. Maybe we could just go back to the actual case?", House grumped when the DA asked him about Wilson's prescribing habits again.

"Answer the question, Dr. House!", the judge told him.

House rolled his eyes. He was bored. He had long given in convincing that jury of anything. In a heartbreaking way the DA had described how these two cold hearted arrogant doctors had killed an innocent fine young man who had such a great life lying ahead of him but these two obviously cared more about their next lunch break instead of decent patient care. After Mr. Milton sen. had shared some tears in the witness stand the DA went on with describing House's sense of good paperwork or actually the lack of it.

Now House had been sitting in the witness stand himself for ten minutes giving his statement about Wilson. "I really don't remember", became his new favorite line and so far the judge had only twice remembered him of his oath and the consequences a false statement would bring with it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were psychic and can actually tell when I'm lying", House had told him earning a 500 dollar fee for contempt. Both Cuddy and Wilson shook their heads and buried their faces in their hands.

"Answer the question, Dr. House!", the DA joined in now. "I don't buy it that you can't remember. You as a doctor know about the limitation on distribution of narcotics. So, did Dr. Wilson always keep up the requested period between two refills?"

House looked at the cane he had leaned against his leg. Of course he didn't. His manipulating personality had made sure Wilson would write him extra prescription every now and then.

"Look up", he told himself. "Only Liars prevent eye contact."

He would be a liar but they would never know, so he looked up right at the DA in his fancy suit. House practically pierced him with his blue eyes.

"Yes, he did!", he said out loud and even without seeing him he knew that Wilson bit his lip and lowered his gaze.

House shook his head and smirked. "He is a good friend but when it comes to prescribing pain meds he's an ass. Always whining about regulations and how he wants to keep his job. Blablabla."

The cane was now repeatedly tapped on the floor.

"Second drawer on the left site of his desk. He would keep it locked but that key was copied a long time ago."

He reached in his jacket and produced a key. "The hard part was forging his signature. He's a lefty you know. But after a while I got used to it."

He leaned back satisfied. That should do it.

Cuddy would have jumped up and interfered enraged telling him to shut up but he had initiated her in their plan that morning. She had not liked the idea but agreed on keeping her mouth shut.

The DA was satisfied. Had turned out unexpected but who cares. House limped back to his place sitting down next to Wilson. His lawyer greeted him with a pissed off look.

"Where did you get that key?", Wilson asked him immediately.

"Shh!", House shushed him down. "Later."

* * *

The judge interrupted the case at this point. He figured everyone had work to do. The DA obviously had to change the indictment and take another look at the old prescriptions. Bishop would have to try some limitation of damage and House finally had to pee in the cup because this time they showed him the court order.

House's statement must have been trustworthy. The state's attorney never actually cared to prove him right. It would have been so easy.

"So sign in his name, don't worry we have enough prescriptions we can compare it with."

But they didn't and on the one hand that relieved House since his lie never got caught. On the other hand it depressed him because it showed him that they didn't care who got screwed up here. They just wanted to make sure somebody paid the bill. He could have confessed the Jack the Ripper murder and they would have bought it.

Finally it turned out House did them a favor. It had not been possible to prove his involvement in Milton's death. The jury even might have found him not guilty. Now he and Wilson still could share it between them.

"It sickens me to see what a narcissistic attitude some doctors develop. Convinced of their skills and knowledge practicing medicine is nothing but a game to them. But as always the bigger they come the harder they fall and your arrogance gave you a really hard impact", the judge told them in the end.

House didn't pay attention. He sunk his head and played with his cane. Only the mentioning of his name brought him back to reality.

"Dr. House, it's nice to see that you apparently finally got off the drugs given your drug test came back negative. Congratulations for that achievement. Nevertheless the high number of forged prescriptions only underlines your lack of any sense of responsibility that is required in the medical profession. It's good to know that neither of you will work as a doctor again."

Wilson groaned. It has just been a formality, well for the authorities, for House and Wilson it meant the end of their professional career. And being reminded of that really hurt. It wasn't their number one problem at the moment anyway since it would have been tough to get to work in time as their new home focused on keeping people inside the walls.

House had been right from the beginning. Wilson was busted anyway. He on the other hand would have stayed out of prison. But for his own verdict he couldn't blame anyone but himself. Still House was convinced he had done the right thing.

It just amazed him that the guy who "killed" the man would be a free man two months earlier than the guy who forged prescriptions. Three years from now.

* * *

After they had heard their verdict they sat down quietly. It didn't come as a surprise but still it shocked both of them. Wilson starred at the table top in front of him. House glanced at his friend. And Cuddy was shedding tears again.

Eventually House turned around and looked at her. Something in his look made her feel better.

His eyes were sad but still convincing and the light smile on his face told her not to worry.

For a while he just looked at her before he spoke.

"So Cuddy, are you still looking for a new home? There is a loft available. Barely any furniture but there is a lovely couch. And you will love the bath tub."

Cuddy wiped her eyes and smiled for a second. She just nodded.

"I'll take care of your stuff", she told them.

Wilson turned around as well and handed her his keys.

"That would be nice", he mumbled. "And the scratches in the bath tub were not our fault. Damn opossum."

They sat there for a moment not changing any words but still enjoying each other's company until the bailiff showed up and they knew it was time to go.

Cuddy watched them as they left the room and somehow she felt relieved that they were at least together.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry it took longer this time. Studying for final exams sucks! **

* * *

Down in the holding cell Wilson and House starred into space. They had been brought here after the trail and were waiting for their trip to prison. Before he entered the cell House had been asked to hand over his cane and he wondered whether he would ever see his wooden friend again. He didn't know much about prisons but he was pretty sure that they didn't equip inmates with potential weapons.

There on that small bench they were sharing reality hit them for the first time. During the past weeks they had not discussed this possible outcome. Separately they had spent nights pondering the question how they would deal with it but now it had become reality and neither House nor Wilson had any idea what to expect and what to do about it.

Wilson couldn't believe this was happening. He had always been the good guy. He just tried to help people. Helping patients make it through the horror of chemo helping them to win a couple of years and finally he would even hold their hands while they were dying when there was no family around making sure they wouldn't suffer too much.

He was not a criminal. Neither was House. He simply had wanted what anyone else was taking for granted. A life without pain. Not some bad criminal intent had made him an addict but a damn blood clot in his thigh years ago.

"Damn it!", the oncologist whispered finally getting House's attention.

"Did you say something?", he asked him.

Wilson shook his head. "I doubt it there is anything left to say", he mumbled and got up.

He strolled around the small cell for a while before he leaned against the bars.

House observed him skeptically. He had decided to shut up for a while. He couldn't leave his friend alone so he would at least give him some quiet time. House was worried. Sure, he was not keen on going to jail but he was sure Wilson would have bigger trouble blending in. An egocentric jerk who didn't give a crap about anybody's business made a better prisoner than the guy who was obviously suffering from helper syndrome. However Wilson definitely would have less trouble with the guards.

The oncologist gripped one of the bars tightly in his hand and examined it as if he tried to get used to it.

"I will never work as a doctor again", he suddenly said. "I can't believe it."

He shook his head again. "I did hundreds of biopsies. It is simple routine." He turned around and looked at House disbelievingly.

"Maybe that's the problem", his friend told him.

"That's all you have to say about this?"

"What do you want me to say? You think I should also ponder about possible career alternatives? A problem I will face three years from now?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Three years and three months", he corrected him.

House smirked and Wilson also laughed for a moment.

Eventually House sighed.

"I don't know what to tell you. It's true. We are not doctors anymore and I have no idea what to do once we get out. But we should concentrate on problem number one right now."

And they could do that immediately. Two officers showed up in front of their cell bringing up two pairs of handcuffs. "Time to go, guys", one of them said and opened the cell.

* * *

That day House found out that there was a huge difference between the cell at the local precinct where he had been a guest for one night a long time ago and a real state prison.

The first lesson they got was easy: The guards were obviously always in hurry. Get out of here, get over there, do this, give me that…. Order after order was shouted at them and they were hurried along all the time from the moment they arrived in the yard.

After they had been rushed out of the van each of them got their own guard who grabbed them at the arm and led them towards one of the surrounding buildings. It wasn't easy for House to follow without the support of his cane and his hands behind his back.

"Can we slow this down a little, please?", he asked politely.

"Or you could just move it up a gear", the guard told him not slowing down one bit.

"I'd be happy to do this but I don't know if you have noticed the slight limp…", here he was cut off.

"Oh shut up! You haven't been here for five minutes and you already complain?"

"Well, those were some crappy five minutes", House retorted and this time the officer stopped and looked at him. "Ever heard about first impressions and how important they are since you can't redo them? You want to be known as a weak wuss from the beginning?"

House held back every comment that shot in his head and bit his tongue for once. He simply shook his head. No need to piss off everyone on the first day.

"Good, now let's go!", the guard said satisfied and dragged him behind him once more.

Once they were inside they were led into a small room and finally released from the handcuffs. House quickly rubbed over his thigh and earned a concerned look from his friend.

"Sit down, shut up and wait", they were ordered by the friendly guard and so they took a seat.

It didn't take long before another guard entered who was obviously some supervising officer since he sent his two colleagues to get some lunch. "Don't be late again!", he yelled after them and faced his two new customers.

* * *

"Now let's see who we got here", he mumbled the files a second guard handed him.

"I'm officer Shepard. As far as you are concerned I'm the boss in block C. Don't piss me off, don't try to play any games with me because in here you'll always lose. You will respect the guards and follow their orders at any time otherwise you will have to deal with the consequences and believe me you won't like them! "

House crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "You mean they are worse than that lame speech?"

Wilson starred at him from the side. "House, shut up!", he mumbled.

Shepard cocked his head and smirked.

"That must be a new record. Two seconds after I explain the rules you break them. Congratulations! And here comes your prize: You like kitchen duty? We are a little short staffed in the potato peeling section so you can start there tomorrow morning. You are lucky today, next time I'll get serious. Got it?"

House ignored him so Shepard stepped closer.

"Do you understand, convict?", he yelled this time causing House to look up at him.

"Yes", he snapped like a rebelling teenager.

But Shepard wasn't satisfied. "Excuse me?"

House sighed. That's why he had refused to join the army a long time ago. Taking orders and accepting authorities were not his strengths.

"Yes, Sir. I got it", he told him this time in a normal tone.

"Good, now back to business"

The officer opened one of the files.

"Which one of you is Wilson?"

Slowly Wilson raised his arm. "That's me."

"And you are a doctor it says here. Impressive. It's a shame that doesn't mean shit in here."

Wilson looked at House questioningly but his friend only rolled his eyes and shook his head telling him to ignore the stupid comment.

"So, Dr. Wilson, you will follow officer Whites here. He'll take care of you."

Wilson got up and followed the officer out of the room. Shepard turned around and grinned at House.

"Guess that leaves only the two of us." He took a look at the second file now.

"House, Gregory. Won't forget your name that's for sure", he mumbled while reading.

Suddenly he laughed. "You are a doctor, too? Seems as if the average IQ amongst the prisoners has just doubled."

House literally bit his tongue this time. The ball was definitely in his court but House decided to skip any smart remarks for the day since he was not in the mood to find out what came after peeling potatoes.

* * *

Shepard shut the file close and signaled him to stand up. "Come on let's get you some clothes."

But as soon as House started limping he held him back.

"Wow, what's that?", he asked and pointed at his leg.

House looked down at his trousers.

"It's a leg, Sir", he answered well behaved and smiled.

"I know it's a freaking leg! What is wrong with it?", the guard yelled. "And no clever doctor talk!", he added.

"Fine. Imagine the blood circulation as a pipe system and one of the pipes gets blocked. Any house behind the blockage is cut off the water supply…", here he got interrupted.

"You are one smart ass, aren't you? I'm gonna have fun teaching you respect, House!", Shepard threatened him. "Now tell me!"

"A blockage in an artery cut off part of my muscle from oxygen supply. So it died off. I lost part of the muscle but regained chronic pain in exchange."

Shepard looked at the thigh as if he could confirm that story by examining the trousers.

"You mean it hurts all the time?"

House simply nodded.

"And what do you do about that?", the guard asked him next.

"Usually I walk with a cane and take pain medication."

Shepard gave him a nod and thought it over.

"I can't give you a cane but the doctor will take a look at your medical history. We'll see what we can do about the pain. Now come on."

* * *

He received three sets of the prison uniform including underwear, sheets and towels and met Wilson again a couple of minutes later. Each of them stood in front of a table now.

"Empty your pockets", they were told.

House brought out a set of keys, his ID and his painkillers. Otherwise his pockets were empty. He had figured that he wouldn't spend the night at home and that the government would pay for him for a while so he had not even brought his wallet. He lay down his watch as well and had no personal items left on him.

Wilson on the other hand lost his wallet, his cell phone and even his pager to the officer on the other side of the table.

"Your pager?", House smirked.

"I didn't notice it was in my coat this morning", he told him and handed his watch over, too.

Everything was registered and vanished in two boxes with their names on it.

Shepard was checking out the pills. They weren't narcotics and there were only three pills left so he gave them back to House. "Take these for the day. Tomorrow you'll see the doctor."

"Thank you", the diagnostician mumbled.

"Right, time to change the clothes. Go ahead, we won't look!"

* * *

Piece after piece they handed over their coats, jackets, ties and shirts. Every single pocket was checked again by the guards. They had both looked good that day. House had stolen a shirt from Wilson in the morning since they were always perfectly ironed and starched. He also had "borrowed" one of Wilson's ties since his own had disappeared somewhere during the moving. Unfortunately their look had helped neither of them.

Shepard was browsing through the files again.

"You guys have the same address? So you are more than just colleagues?", he said a smug smirk on his face.

"Oh no", House groaned while Wilson nearly freaked out.

"No, no, no! We are friends and nothing else. I mean we are not…ahm... together. It's just, well actually it's a long story."

House shook his head. "Very convincing. Now shut up!"

The guards grinned.

"We are not gay. I went to a rehab facility last year detoxing from Vicodin and working out some issues. Once I got out I moved in with him since he thought he needs to keep an eye on me. Don't worry, he's still morning his three failed marriages and his dead girlfriend and I'm secretly in love with my female boss."

Shepard smirked. "Alright, alright I believe you. Now let's get this over with!"

The trousers were next to go and suddenly all eyes were on House's thigh.

"Wow, I can imagine that hurts", Shepard said and took a close look at the scarred tissue.

"Looks like a dog bit the shit out of you", Whites joined him.

Carefully Wilson glanced at it for a moment, too. He had only seen it once so far right after the surgery while it was still healing. Suddenly he realized House was staring at him and he felt ashamed.

"I think I should take money for this. So much interest in the cripple today", House declared and pointed at his stomach. "Look at this while you're at it. This one comes from a gunshot. Cool, huh?"

Shepard built up in front of him and crossed his arms.

"You will get yourself in lots of trouble in here!", he told him and signaled them to get dressed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they were done. Dressed in blue jeans and pale blue shirts they entered their new home. Block C. It wasn't really cozy since it showed nothing than concrete, metal staircases and many, many, many bars. Plus it was loud in there. Inmates were yelling, guards were shouting orders and every other moment a door was slammed shut loudly. The other prisoners eyeballed them skeptically.

House got a cell on the ground close to the guard's station so he could avoid any stairs while Wilson was set on the first floor. It was busy within the block. Twenty minutes before dinner time all the inmates had returned from work and could move freely inside the building. House was not keen on meeting any of them. Wilson was also not looking for new friends when he was on his way downstairs to visit an old one.

He found House lying on his bed starring at the ceiling. The pile of clothes, sheets and towels he had thrown on the floor. Wilson figured he would find him often like this during the next years. Unfortunately House had no medical mysteries to ponder.

"You like the neighborhood?", he asked him now and entered the cell.

House looked up at him.

"Next time I ask for a cell with an ocean view", he answered and sat up.

"Why did you tell them everything about us?", Wilson asked him now starting to pick up some shirts and trousers to put them on the shelve. House smirked.

"Thank you, darling."

"Answer the question, House!", Wilson told him continuing with the towels.

"Everything I told them is either not interesting or in the file so they know it anyway. You want to start in here with a reputation of being gay? Well, good luck with that one."

Wilson nodded and took a seat next to him on the bed.

"I don't know what to do", he admitted and hung his head.

"So you thought it would be a good idea to ask the only other person in here who has never been in prison before. Clever."

But he saw the desperate look on Wilson's face so he tried again.

"You heard the guy: Sit down, shut up and wait. That's what you are going to do. Don't get into anyone's business. Just be yourself without the annoying lecturing part. Seriously don't give any advices!"

"I'm afraid", Wilson simply answered his eyes still glued to the concrete floor.

At this point House ran out of answers. What was he supposed to tell him? That he was afraid, too?

Actually he wasn't. Probably because he hadn't even realized what had happened today. That he had lost his freedom and his career in one day. Should he try to cheer him up? Tell him that everything would be alright although they both knew it would be a lie? Should he ensure him that he would always be there for him? Honestly, he wasn't even sure about that one. When things get tough charity begins at home. Especially in prison.

For the first time that day House got lucky since they were interrupted before he could answer his friend. A signal tone told them it was time for dinner.

"Come on", House simply told him and they followed the other inmates to the mess hall.


	8. Chapter 8

House had a short night. He had trouble falling asleep. 9.30 pm was certainly not his usual bed time. And a cell block never really got quiet. Some of the inmates started talking to their neighbors until a guard showed up and yelled around telling everyone to shut up. Another problem was the temperature. House was freezing. He still wore his jeans and his shirt and wrapped himself in his blanket almost covering his entire head as well. That caused trouble again. When he was finally drifting into sleep he nearly got a heart attack as one of the guards banged his nightstick against the bars. He shot up and looked around right into a blinding flashlight.

"Show some skin, House! Gotta make sure you are where you belong", he told him.

"What you think I vanish through the key hole?", House mumbled and lay down again.

It took another half an hour until he finally fell asleep. Unfortunately he was woken up at 5 am since his big mouth had bought him a day in the kitchen brigade.

* * *

Actually it was a popular job amongst the prisoners since they never were hungry and it provided one of the rare opportunities to get in touch with the world through the suppliers. So they could smuggle in many things building up a booming and lucrative business.

As a minor punishment however one could always end up there cleaning the dishes or preparing vegetables.

"Who needs potatoes at this time?", House yawned and freaked at the same time when he saw the amount of vegetables in the kitchen.

"Just do as you are told", the guard ordered him and shoved a potato peeler in his hands.

"I want to see your ass on this chair the entire morning!", he told him and left to look after the other inmates who were preparing breakfast.

Three more prisoners were already dealing with the vegetables and he watched them for a moment while rubbing his thigh. The pain got worse. No wonder after the cold night on the uncomfortable mattress. His last pill was in his pocket but he had decided to save it a little longer.

"What are you waiting for?", one of the inmates yelled at him now.

House didn't answer him. Instead he grabbed a potato and peeled one of them for the first time in about 35 years. An hour and a half and what felt like 100000 potatoes later it was time for breakfast.

House only got himself some coffee and found Wilson at an otherwise empty table.

He decided it was time for his pain meds and got the pill from his pocket.

"You look exhausted", Wilson greeted him.

House yawned noisily and took a sip from his cup.

"Thank you. Might have something to do with the lack of sleep."

"So you made some friends in the kitchen?", Wilson asked him amused and received a death glare in return.

"Maybe you should play the cripple card. Whine a little bit about the pain", his friend suggested now while House stole his apple.

"House, the food is free in here. Get your own", he told him although he knew it was a forlorn hope.

"You really have no idea about prison life, do you? Whine about it? Are you out of your mind?" He shook his head. "The cripple card didn't even work with Cuddy."

Wilson shrugged. "At least you can use the practice. Won't certainly be the last time you are on kitchen duty."

House showed him a pissed off smile but groaned when a guard showed up to get him back to work.

"We should join a union. These working conditions suck!", he mumbled and limped back to the kitchen.

* * *

House didn't have to play the cripple card that day. After two more hours in the kitchen Shepard showed up.

"You're having fun?", he smirked.

House had trouble seeing him since he had moved on to cutting onions. He snuffled noisily.

"Sure, these are tears of joy", he managed to say.

"Good. I thought I take you to the doctor now but of course I don't want you to miss out on all the fun here", Shepard answered and turned around to leave.

House rolled his watering eyes and could have hit himself for his stupidity.

"Just shut up already with your damn comments!", he told himself.

"Hey boss", he tried getting the guard's attention. "I think I'd prefer the doctor. Please."

Shepard nodded and signaled him to follow him.

"Remember the experience. Next time it'll be a week!"

* * *

By the end of their first week House and Wilson had settled in. Of course they still hated everything about the place but they had found a way to deal with it. The doctor in the infirmary supplied House with his pain medication. He received four pills every day. One after every meal and one for the night. He was worried the pain would increase as he walked without his cane all the time. But so far he could bear it.

House had not returned to the kitchen which was really an achievement for him. And Wilson had digested the first shock and tried to take House's advice. His friend had finally come up with something he could tell him.

"Don't think about it too much. Put your brain on standby for the next three years. Pondering your brains out won't help anyone. Trust me, it'll only drive you crazy", he had told him after Wilson had suffered through his second sleepless night.

They still tried to ignore the other inmates but kept an eye on them. Mostly during the hour in the yard they tried to figure out the hierarchy amongst the prisoners. They observed the different groups that were gathering in their usual spots as soon as they had yard exercise. It hadn't been easy in the beginning not to get into someone's way or territory.

Unfortunately their grace period seemed to be off by the end of the week.

* * *

They had dinner together the next day at their table in the last corner of the mess hall when they got some company. The men were members of a group House and Wilson had not figured out yet. They were not really musclemen like the wannabe bodybuilders who were busy with the weights all the time but they somehow managed to be in charge in there since everyone else tried to avoid any conflicts with them. Their leader was a skinny guy called Sharks.

He joined them now with two of his guys, Antony and Mark.

"So what is it with the two of you?", he asked them.

House continued with his dinner while Wilson hesitated for a moment.

"Hey!", Antony yelled grabbing House's right wrist to keep him from eating.

"He asked you a question."

House glared at him and tried to get his hand back but the grip tightened immediately. So he simply took the fork in his left hand and continued with his meal.

Eventually the guy sitting on his left grabbed the fork from his hand banged it down on the table. "You better pay attention here!"

House rolled his eyes and sighed annoyed.

"What do you want?", he asked them.

Sharks leaned back. "Well, you boys have been here for a week and you haven't introduced yourselves yet. Where are your manners?"

"You want us to set up a barbeque and invite you over for steaks and beer?", House snapped still fighting for his hand. As a result his hand was forced down to the table top. Antony didn't look like it but he was strong. Now he picked up the fork with his right hand and inspected it. House didn't lose sight of the it since he already could imagie what to expect after the next wrong answer.

Wilson observed the scene with a worried expression on his face.

"Is there anything we can do for you?", he interfered now.

Sharks eyeballed him for a moment. "You can shut the fuck up!", he turned to House, "and you can tell me about the pills you are taking."

* * *

House was surprised it had taken them so long to show up. He had guessed the pills would mean trouble sooner or later although they were not even narcotics. But in here people would swallow everything so his little pain helpers were probably hot goods.

"Go to hell!", House simply told him. Out of the corner of his eye he still observed the fork that was hanging over his hand like the sword of Damocles.

Antony might have been strong but what House lacked in strength he made up in smartness. So he caught his captor with his pants down when he pushed his arm forward instead of pulling it back making sure the fork didn't pierce his hand. Instead the guy rammed it into his own hand that still held the House's wrist.

Now he let go immediately shouting in pain and starring in shock at his hand. The fork rakes showed up in his palm. He had pushed it through so hard it had even scratched House's skin which was bleeding as well.

He had no time to worry about it. A hand grabbed him by his shoulder and turned him around. Mark had been silent so far. But now he punched him in the face sending him down on the floor. The entire mess hall turned into a madhouse. Every time someone started a fight the inmates would start cheering and yelling. For them it was a welcome distraction. Wilson jumped up in order to help his friend but was pushed hard in the back by Sharks and banged his head on the wall right next to him. Eventually the guards interfered however not before House received a kick in the stomach from his attacker.

He felt dizzy and wasn't sure if he could keep his dinner down. Two of the guards grabbed Mark and pulled him back while another one took a look at Antony's hand. Apart from his yelling it got silent in the mess hall. Shepard arrived and looked at the mess in front of him. One of his prisoners sat on the floor holding his bloody forehead. Another one had a fork stuck in his hand and was bleeding all over the place and a third one lay in front of him holding his stomach trying to catch his breath.

* * *

"What the hell is going on here?", he shouted.

Sharks answered him immediately. He pointed at House.

"He attacked him. We were just having dinner and suddenly he attacked him with his fork!"

"Sure, you are innocent as always, Sharks. This is not your table. What are you doing back here?"

Sharks shrugged. "Needed a change of scenery."

"I can help you there, smartass. How about some time in solitary downstairs? Now shut up."

He tapped House on his shoe. "Get up and tell me your version of the story."

House coughed and sat up. His nose hurt like hell and he was sure it was broken. He had heard the cracking sound right after the punch. At least he had lost the urge to throw up. He pushed himself up and looked at Wilson who was still sitting on the floor. His friend would need some stitches for the laceration on his head.

Shepard built up front of him. "So? What happened?"

House shrugged. "Nothing. Just a weird accident."

The guard narrowed his eyes.

"Are you sure?", he asked again.

House glanced at Sharks who gave him a convincing look.

"Yes, Sir."

Shepard sighed. "Fine, have it your way. Carlson, you take these two to the infirmary", he pointed at Wilson and Mark who was still whimpering.

"You take Antony down in isolation", he ordered the two guards who were still holding the prisoner. "And you can join him!", he told House and grabbed him by his arm. "I told you not to play any games with me!"

"But he didn't do anything!", Wilson complained.

"Shut up or you can join him", Carlson told him.

Sharks was the only one who was free to go. He walked past House and bumped into his shoulder.

"This isn't over!", he mumbled and was sent on his way by Shepard.

* * *

While Wilson was taken care of in the infirmary House got to know the solitary cell.

There was barely any light in there which was helpful because the close cell would have only increased the claustrophobic feeling in his stomach. His nose hurt like hell but at least it took the edge of his leg pain. He had missed out on his last pill and obviously they had forgotten about it.

"Damn pills", he thought. They had brought him here in the first place. Not just in this cell but in this jail. Goddamn leg! House had often wondered how it was possible that he solved all these complicated cases but missed out that one diagnosis on himself. And right now he wished they would have cut off the leg all these years ago. It would have saved him so much trouble and so much pain.

He wondered how Wilson was doing. Lacerations were often tricky. Sometimes they bled like hell although there was no real damage and sometimes they hardly bleed at all but came along with a dangerous concussion. However a concussion would have come in handy for Wilson since he could stay in the infirmary overnight. He was alone, all by himself and he couldn't persist alone against Sharks and his gang. They also couldn't do anything against them if they were together right now but still House would have felt better. He was worried. It had not been clever to resist against one of the most powerful groups in that prison.

At least Shepard remembered his leg problem and showed up half an hour later. He stepped into the small cell and handed House his pill and an ice pack. The guard shined a flashlight in his face.

"How's your nose?", he asked him.

The upper part of his nasal bone was swollen and had changed colors.

"It could be worse", House mumbled and carefully touched the aching part with the ice pack.

"Ok. Good night!", the guard was about to leave but House wasn't done.

"How's Wilson?", he asked him now.

"I don't know yet. But he was definitely better off than the other guy", the guard explained and left.

House swallowed the pill and lay back down on the cot still cooling his nose. At least the guards were ok and not pissing him off. House couldn't know that this would change pretty soon.

* * *

**Reviews are still welcome! :-)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the nice reviews! :-)**

* * *

House was released after 24 hours and returned to his block. He was looking for Wilson but couldn't find him anywhere. Not even in his cell on the first floor. So he wanted to get down to the guard's station to ask about Wilson's whereabouts. Carefully he stepped down the stairs.

"Come on, move it up, gimp", an inmate rushed him and pushed him aside.

House ignored him and slowly he managed the last steps.

"Excuse me!", he called the guard who was busy reading his newspaper.

The guy looked up and once he saw House he showed a big grin and stepped out.

"It really is you. I couldn't believe it first but I'm not surprised you were in isolation already", he told him. House looked confused. He had never seen that guy in his life. Or had he?

"It's ok if you don't remember me. You were probably busy insulting hundreds of patients. Of course you can't memorize every one of them."

"Uh Oh", was House's only thought.

"I drove all the way down to Princeton to make sure I don't run into anyone I know. But you had to tell my wife I had gonorrhea."

House did remember that guy now. It had only been 6 months ago right after he had started working again. He had tried to convince Cuddy that it had been all that clinic duty that had driven him crazy in the first place but she hadn't bought it. Then he had asked Nolan for a doctor's note saying he should avoid clinic duty but of course his therapist had denied that request.

"You should be amongst people", he had told him.

"There are hardly any people there. Just morons with sniffels and STDs."

Nolan and Cuddy had both been relentless and so he had been back on clinic duty.

"I hope you had your fun back then. I will have mine busting your ass from now on", the guard threatened him.

House had not told anyone about that guy's STD. It had been the nurse pointing it out to Cuddy and she had called the state health department. That was the law. She had yelled at House the following day and had told him to take over responsibility and to do his job.

But House knew it was useless to bring up this fact. That guy either wouldn't believe him or he wouldn't give a crap about it. Here he had a punching bag and a free pass to screw with him.

"I didn't inform your wife", he simply mumbled.

"No, you told the health department. And they informed my wife. It's still your fault."

"Sure, it had nothing to do with you cheating on your wife", House snapped. "Look, I didn't give a crap about your infidelity. There are some laws doctors must follow. It's part of the job."

The officer grinned again.

"Huh. What a funny coincidence. See, I'm following the law here, too. It tells me to look after you, make sure you don't escape and you behave well. Lucky for me it gives me a huge clearance how I do this. So I can either make your life like heaven on earth or like hell. Guess what I'm going for."

* * *

House never made that guess since they were interrupted by Shepard.

"Hey boss. Glad you're back. How was your vacation?"

He looked at House who suddenly showed a startled expression on his face.

"Boss?", he thought, "That guy is in charge? Oh shit."

"You finally remember what happened yesterday? Your buddy is still in the infirmary. Hit his head pretty hard", Shepard asked him.

"He is not my buddy", House explained quickly. "He got me into this mess in the first place and now he confuses me for his agony aunt."

"Nobody gives a damn about the story of your life. Now get out of here!", the new guard snubbed at him and shoved him away.

House limped back to his cell and sat down on his bed. That was a huge problem and he and Wilson would need a new strategy.

* * *

Wilson yearned for the headache he had experienced after his last intoxication. It was nothing against the pain he experienced when he woke up in the morning. It took him a moment to figure out where he was. The handcuff that chained him to the bed frame helped his memory. Once he remembered the incident that had brought him there he groaned and closed his eyes.

He wondered how House was doing. He had broken his nose for sure. Damn! Wilson really hoped House had gotten his pain meds. But he was almost glad that his friend had ended up in isolation. At least he was safe from these guys down there. Wilson knew they had gotten themselves into deep trouble.

Finally he sat up and looked around and got the reason for the handcuff. There were three beds in the room. Antony lay in the bed by the window and since there was no guard around Wilson was actually glad they had taken precautions preventing the two prisoners from fighting again.

Fortunately his roommate was still asleep.

Half an hour later they got a visitor. Dr. Stone entered the room. He did a quick neuro exam making sure Wilson's head was fine and checked the wound on his forehead.

"How's the pain?", he asked him

"Bad. Concussions tend to hurt a couple of days."

"Thank you. I'm a doctor, too", Stone smirked and checked his pupil reactions.

"At least the nausea is gone", Wilson added.

"Good. You should just rest and I think you're ready to go back tonight", Stone told him and went to check on his second patient.

Wilson had an annoying day ahead of him. He received some painkillers with his breakfast but Antony kept the entire day.

"Wait until we're back in the block. I'll kick your ass and your buddy is next in line."

He went on for hours telling him that they would regret the day they were born, blablabla.

So Wilson was relieved when finally a guard showed up and brought him back to his block. He really wanted to find out about House now.

* * *

He looked around suspiciously when he walked towards House's cell always awaiting Sharks and his gang to show up so they could take revenge for their injured buddy. But they didn't and so he found his friend lying on the bed starring at the ceiling. House looked awful. The fight had left clear marks on his nose.

"Are you alright?", he asked him immediately.

House hesitated for a moment before he looked at him.

"Go away!", he ordered him.

Wilson looked surprised. "What?"

"I said go away! Get out of here and leave me alone!", he yelled this time but Wilson didn't move.

"What is wrong with you? What happened?", he wanted to know.

House sighed and sat up.

"I'm sick and tired of you and your damn questions! That's what happened! Just get the hell away from me and don't come back!"

Wilson shook his head. He couldn't believe this.

"House, you're not the only one who got hurt yesterday. It wasn't my fault. So what's your problem?"

House jumped up now and pierced him with his eyes.

"Are you stupid?", he shouted in his friend's face. "I want you to leave, now! I'm done with you!"

Wilson had no idea what was going on but he realized it was useless to keep up the argument.

He shook his head again and left. He walked past a guard he had never seen before and went upstairs to his own cell.

House on the other hand had seen Robins standing outside his cell immediately after Wilson had approached him. The guard had observed the scene between the two of them and House wanted to make it extra clear that he was done with Wilson. He felt awful when he watched his friend leaving and he was hoping he would get an opportunity to explain his behavior as soon as possible.

He didn't even get a chance to ask him about his laceration.

* * *

Later that day after dinner House got a visitor. It was Sharks and one of his buddies.

"I'm sorry we were interrupted yesterday by that little incident. I think you were about to tell me about your meds, right?", he started and sat down next to House.

"No, I think I told you to piss off", House replied, "I'd be happy to tell you again: Get out!"

"Tststs", Shanks pursed his lips and shook his head. "This is sad. I hear you were a doctor. Thought you would be smarter. Why are you limping again? It's something about your thigh, isn't it? Left or right leg?"

He looked at House's leg. "Guess I'll find out myself."

He reached out and grabbed House's left thigh squeezing it but House showed no reaction. However as soon as Sharks tried to get the other leg House was faster and grabbed his arm. Sharks smirked.

"So it's the right one I guess. Good to know."

House glanced at Shark's buddy who stepped over ready to interfere and let go of the wrist.

"What do you want?", he asked them eventually.

"I want to know why you get free drugs while I have to smuggle them in. Have you any idea how tough the drug business is in here?"

So that was it. That guy managed the prison pharmacy. He controlled the drugs which meant he controlled the inmates.

They had really pissed off the wrong group.

* * *

"My drugs won't help you. They are not addictive", House explained.

"Then the pain isn't that bad. Or maybe it is and you don't want to be an addict."

Out of nowhere he hit him in his thigh. It happened so fast that House couldn't react in time. The pain exploded in the damaged muscle and House couldn't prevent a cry of pain.

Sharks looked at his buddy. "I think the pain is bad", he grinned and turned to House again.

"Don't worry. I can help you with this. I'll see you tomorrow."

They hurried out since House's shouting draw some attention. House himself lay down on his side and grabbed his aching thigh with both hands. With tears in his eyes he tried to calm down. His pulse was way too high and the pain radiating from his leg made it impossible for him to get a clear thought.

"What's going on here?", Robins asked him. He had heard the shouting and came over to check on him.

House didn't answer. He bit his lip to prevent another groan while he still faced the wall.

"Hey, convict, I asked you a question. So get your ass up and answer me!"

For a second House chuckled. Getting up? Great idea, maybe tomorrow but only if he could find some morphine in this place.

"I won't tell you again, House!", he could hear Robins behind him.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up. Carefully he got up taking all his weight on the left leg. Still he nearly went down.

"I tripped, Sir. Got a little problem with my leg."

The guard looked at the part of the leg House held with his hand.

"Hmm. On the bright side, I bet your nose doesn't hurt at all at the moment. Right?", he sneered and left. House turned around and hit his fist against the wall. Partly to relieve the pain in his leg but mostly to prevent himself from punching Robins.

Wilson had watched the entire scene. He stood in front of his cell leaning on the railing and had a ring site seat. He saw how House eventually sat down and held his hand and he wondered what House would do next to get some pain relief. He thought about approaching his friend but he had a feeling that House would prefer some time alone right now.

* * *

The following day they had no yard exercise since they got some visitors. Cuddy was horrified when she saw the two of them. They had only been there for 10 days but both of them got injured. House took a seat and she could tell he wasn't thrilled by her presence.

Wilson looked surprised when he sat down across from Lucas.

"What are you doing here?", he wondered.

"Cuddy could only visit one but we need the both of you. You have to sign some forms giving her a proxy for your bank account and some other stuff so she can take care of everything."

Lucas handed over some sheets of paper. He felt awkward.

"So how are you guys doing?", he asked while Wilson started reading.

"We are fine", Wilson mumbled not looking up from the forms.

Lucas eyeballed him and House who was sitting at the next table.

"But you don't look that way", he stated. Wilson sighed annoyed. He signed everything in front of him and shoved the papers back to Lucas.

"Anything else?"

Lucas scraped his cheek for a moment.

"Well, about the loft. Ahm, Lisa would take it if that's ok with you."

"Sure, take it, burn it whatever", Wilson told him and was ready to leave but Lucas held him back.

He produced another form from his jacket.

"Then you should sign this, too", he explained.

Wilson sat down again and signed the contract.

Finally he looked at Lucas for the first time.

"Thank you for taking care of it."

"No problem. Listen, if you need anything just give us a call."

Wilson chuckled. "Sure, I put you on speed dial on my cell phone."

"Come on, man. You know what I mean", Lucas tried again.

Wilson nodded and smiled. "Yes. But so far we are fine."

* * *

"How are you, House?", Cuddy asked to interrupt the silence between them.

"I'm doing ok", he mumbled.

"But your nose, what happened? And what about Wilson's head?"

"Let's say he tripped and bumped into me breaking my nose in the process."

He didn't meet her eyes. His just starred at the table top.

She sighed. "Oh House."

He glanced at Lucas. "Why do you punish Wilson like this?"

She chuckled. "Actually I planned on punishing you but we got it mixed up."

Cuddy explained him why they had shown up and he also signed the proxies.

When they were done they got silent again. Cuddy felt uncomfortable. She didn't know what to tell him since she figured nothing she could say would help him.

"I miss you, you know", she finally admitted. "I'm expecting you to bump into my office without a knock every time I have an important meeting. And I miss the nurses telling me that you didn't show up for clinic duty again."

"Don't go there Cuddy", he told her and looked up. "It's not helping. What do you expect me to tell you? That you were right to chose Lucas over me because Rachel still has a daddy figure now? That I miss you, too? I didn't have to go to prison to start missing you. Now go home and live your dream life. You got your kid, got your man and your job. You did fine and if you're still not happy well I'm sorry, then I can't help you there."

He saw Wilson leaving and decided to join him although he was still not speaking to him.

"Thanks for the visit", he told her and got up. He could tell she was nearly crying.

"Hey. I could make Chase skipping his clinic duty so you can remember the feeling. I might not be his boss anymore but I think he's still afraid of me."

Cuddy chuckled and watched him leaving.

Lucas joined her and put his arm around here.

"You're alright?", he asked her.

She simply nodded.

"Yeah, let's go."

"We can move now. He signed the contract", he told her happily.

Cuddy shook her head. "Who cares about the damn place?"

* * *

Sharks was already waiting for House when he returned to his cell. His new nemesis was lying on his bed whistling.

"You should do something with this place. It's really depressing", he told House.

"Yeah, for starters I should get rid of the vermin on my bed", House snapped.

"Don't be that rude. I brought you a gift", Sharks told him and got up. He reached into his pocket and brought out a bottle with pills. "Trust me, these will work better than the crap Stone gives you."

House looked at the bottle. So this was what Sharks wanted. Canvassing new customers. This was just a giveaway. Next time he would pay for it.

"Get out!", House told him.

"Are you sure you want to piss me off?", Sharks asked him.

"Get the hell out of here!", House shouted this time.

Sharks grinned. "I leave these here for you. Maybe you change your mind. Painful things can happen in this place."

Sharks shoved the pills in his hand and left.

House glanced at the bottle. Sharks had picked out his favorites, Vicodin. How ironic.

He turned around to make sure there was no guard around. Then he sat down and weighed the pills in his hand.

He didn't want to go back there. The rehab had been too hard. Being a drug addict had sucked in his daily life back in Princeton. But in here? It would be so much worse because he would be dependent on his dealer. He would be nothing but a sock puppet.

On the other hand he knew they wouldn't just leave him alone if he denied their friendly offer.

House got up and stepped to the toilet. He knew he had no chance but he wouldn't surrender without a fight. And so he flashed down the Vicodin.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm sorry it took that long. I had some trouble with my internet. I'm still grateful for every review! :-)**

* * *

The following day Robins decided they had idled away their time long enough. So he approached Wilson on the first floor. Before he entered the cell he turned around and looked down at House's cell.

"House!", he yelled and waited until the inmate stepped out and looked up at him.

"Need to talk to you and your buddy. Get up here!", Robins ordered him.

House sneered. Of course.

"He's not good with stairs. Maybe we should go downstairs", Wilson suggested.

"Did I ask for your opinion?", Robins snubbed at him. Wilson shook his head.

"Then shut up!"

He turned around and watched House coming upstairs. His leg still hurt more than usual but he clenched his teeth since he didn't want to give Robins any satisfaction.

Finally he arrived. "You rang, Sir?", he said in a sarcastic tone.

"I think it's about time you guys start working. You waste enough tax money already. No need you get all this for free. You are lucky. We are a little short staffed in the infirmary. So let's see."

He eyeballed both of them for a moment.

Finally he pointed at Wilson.

"You got the job. But please don't kill anyone this time."

Then he turned to House. "So we have to find something for you. Let me think."

House rolled his eyes. "Maybe you need someone for the prison's marathon team? Oh come on, boss, there must be something that includes running around all day so bring it on. Tell me, do you get a boner every time you watch me limping? Does it improve your morning glory when you think about the poor cripple you can mock all day long?"

Robins sneered. "It's not the limping. It's the fact that you can't do anything about it. I give you an order and you have to follow. It's just fun to watch. For example, you just showed a disrespectful behavior towards an officer. I don't know how long you will be busy doing the dishes this evening but you can use that time to think about the proper behavior. And again there is nothing you can do about it."

Wilson watched House and realized his friend was pondering that statement. When he saw a slight smile on his face Wilson knew House was ready to deliver another insolent comment and so he interfered.

Silently he cursed House who was about to annoy another guard. He couldn't know that things between House and Robins were already screwed up.

* * *

"You can't do this!", he told Robins. "He's got a handicap and it's bad enough he walks without his cane. You might be in charge in here but he still got some rights! House should work in the infirmary and I can do something else."

"Shut up, Wilson", House cut him off.

Robins chuckled again and starred at Wilson for a moment.

"You told me he wasn't your friend but just a huge pain in the ass", he addressed House. "Did you lie to me?"

House glanced at Wilson who suddenly understood his friend's outburst the other day.

"This is none of your business!", House told the guard.

"Everything in here is my business!", Robins retorted but let it be for the moment.

He was still thinking about a proper job for House and once he found it he grinned.

"Delivery guy, that's it. We need someone who delivers the mail in here. I think you are trustworthy. And if not, well the last guy lost the job because he stole a letter. Bad for him because it contained some pictures of another inmate's girlfriend. That's the good thing about this place. The inmates solve their problems themselves. You can start tomorrow."

He looked at Wilson. "And you don't get into other people's business!", he warned him and left them.

"Asshole!", Wilson said out loud and surprised House and Robins equally.

But while House found it rather amusing, Robins had a problem with the insult.

"You're lucky, House. You just got yourself some help in the kitchen", he said and left.

* * *

"You're an idiot. You knew he would do that. Once again you got yourself into trouble to help me", House said and rubbed his thigh with his hand.

"Or maybe I just think he's an asshole", Wilson explained.

"You're lucky he doesn't force you clean to the toilets with a toothbrush."

"Who is this guy anyway? And how did you piss him off that quickly?", his friend wanted to know. House stretched out his leg and grimaced. Gently Wilson pushed him into his cell and signaled him to take a seat.

"He was a patient in the clinic last year and didn't like my diagnosis", House mumbled.

"STD?", Wilson asked immediately and groaned when he received a nod in return. "He had gonorrhea", House explained.

"Oh man. No wonder he's mad at you. But it's a shame it wasn't herpes. That would be the gift of a lifetime", Wilson smirked.

"So you told him we were not friends?", Wilson went on after a silent moment.

House shrugged. "No need to drag you into this as well."

Wilson smiled. That was actually very caring of House.

"Great plan. We only have to keep up this charade for three years."

"You think it would be still a charade after three years?", House wondered contemplatively.

"I'm not keen on finding that out, House."

"Don't worry. You just pissed him off yourself so from now on he will have it in for you as well."

Wilson gave him a nod. "Probably. Nevertheless you can't just take everything he throws at you. You have to fight this."

House smirked. He didn't give a damn about Robins. Sure, he would keep teasing him but he couldn't seriously harm him in any way. The bigger problem was Sharks and he couldn't make that go away by rattling him out to the guards.

* * *

While the other inmates went back to the block after dinner, House and Wilson faced the huge piles of dirty treys and cutlery. At the request of Robins the rest of the kitchen crew got an evening off. It would probably keep them busy the entire night but they didn't care. They were out of reach for Robins and for Shark's gang and their guard was more interested in his newspaper and his secret cigarette breaks than watching them.

So he missed out on the part when House used too much of the dish soap producing a bubble bath in the huge sink. The guard also wasn't around when Wilson "accidently" spattered him with water. He did return however during the water fight that had started when House sought revenge armed with a pot filled with water. Wilson slipped on the wet floor and made it extra easy for House.

Like two school boys they enjoyed their little game while they completely forgot about their work. Both of them were soaking wet but they laughed and had a good time chasing each other around the kitchen. Even his leg didn't keep House from attacking Wilson with a sponge.

"What the hell is going on here?", the guard shouted when he returned.

Wilson and House stopped immediately and looked at him. They had caused a little flooding, water was dripping from their heads and their soaking shirts clung to their skin.

"Spring cleaning, boss. We thought we clean the floor as well while we are at it", House explained trying to prevent another laughing fit.

"You will not leave until you cleaned up the very last drop of water", the guard told them and this time he stayed and kept an eye on them.

They were done at half past eleven so the guard brought them back to their block. It had taken a while to clean the mess up but it had definitely been worth it.

"Night, Wilson!", House called after him while his friend went upstairs.

"Night, House! See you in the morning."

* * *

The next day Wilson got bored on his new assignment in the infirmary. There was nothing to do and so he spent his time starring out of the window and reading the newspaper he had found. Unfortunately it was one week old.

At the same time House was bored as well. It seemed as if delivering mail in a prison was more complicated than he had imagined. He was responsible for the mail until it reached its recipient which meant he couldn't just throw it into the cells while everyone was at work. He had to wait until the evening. Plus he knew none of his fellow inmates. That would take a while and he was already convinced that the guys waiting for their letters would be angry at him.

Sharks on the other hand didn't want to wait any longer. He had planned on paying House another visit the evening before. But House had been busy in the kitchen so he had to wait until now. In the almost empty block he found House in his cell.

"How's the leg, doc?", he asked him and brought him out of his thoughts.

House looked up. "Terrific. Thanks for asking. Bye!"

"Might have something to do with the sample I left here the last time."

House chuckled. "Certainly not. I don't care what you do, I'll never take your shit."

Sharks pursed his lips. "That's really sad. Guess there is nothing I can do then."

He was about to leave but turned around again.

"Antony came back this morning. He's in a bad mood since his hand still hurts so I promised him a distraction."

House glanced at the three guys showing up behind their boss now. One of them still had a bandage around his hand. It wouldn't keep him from beating the shit out of him.

He sat up. "That's your great plan? Beating me up? You're an idiot. Even if I took the Vicodin I wouldn't need your drug connections. That doctor up there is such a moron I could talk him into writing me a prescription in no time."

"Good for you. You will need one when they are done with you", Sharks told him and disappeared leaving the floor to his buddies.

House gulped nervously when they entered his cell and he just wished it wouldn't take too long.

* * *

And at least there he was lucky that day. Since there were still guards around they hurried up and were out of his cell two minutes later.

House lay on the floor and groaned. Even after his attackers had left it took a while before he opened his eyes and took his arms down. He had used them to cover his head. He could hardly breathe since they had kicked him in his chest a couple of times. At least they didn't aim for his thigh this time. It was probably the only part that didn't hurt right now but he wasn't sure. There was pain everywhere.

Carefully he tried to sit up but he felt dizzy immediately and threw up.

The pile of vomit next to his face motivated him to try again. Finally he managed to climb on his bed. He shut his eyes and tried to calm down. His medical mind was already busy getting a self diagnosis. Carefully he checked his rips. Two of them were probably broken but fortunately they hadn't punctured his lungs. Once his thoracic diaphragm would relax the breathing would improve.

His limbs seemed to be fine. No broken bones just some bruises. They were more painful but not as annoying. He knew he should see the doctor but he didn't want to. He couldn't even imagine getting up let alone walk all the way to the infirmary. Plus, he wasn't keen on answering stupid questions. He wouldn't tell them the truth anyway.

But once again the decision was taken from him.

* * *

"What's going on here?", Shepard asked him. At least Robins had his day off.

"Nothing", House mumbled.

"I see. So you didn't vomit on the floor and you're not bleeding from your head."

House looked surprised. He was bleeding? He touched his right temple and looked at his fingers. It was true, they were red. That explained the dizzy feeling.

"Now that comes as a shock", he tried but Shepard didn't buy it.

"Maybe somebody was seeking revenge for a stabbed hand?"

House sat up and looked at the guard.

"Sir, you know I can't tell you anything. So why don't we skip the part with the questions and you send me in isolation right away?"

Shepard raised his eyebrow. He eyeballed the prisoner sitting in front of him like a picture of misery. He still showed the marks from his last fight on his nose and now there was a cut on the right side of his head. And the way he held the right side of his chest with his left hand told him there might have been a problem with House's ribs as well.

"I think you should rather see a doctor first. I hear you friend works there now."

"But he is not a doctor. Not anymore", House mumbled.

"Still, I'm sure he can help you. Come on!"

Shepard helped him up and even offered his shoulder so House would have some support.

From the minute House and Wilson had arrived in prison Shepard had felt sorry for them.

They were not criminals. He was convinced they were good guys who had made some bad decisions. The guard knew they would have trouble with the real bad guys. He would keep an eye on them from now on. That's what he told himself while he helped House to the infirmary.

* * *

In the meantime Wilson was busy inspecting the pathetic excuse for a collection of medical books they had in the place. About twenty books he found there most of them totally out of date.

So he didn't mind when Dr. Stone told him to take care of a new patient. But when he saw House sitting on the stretcher he was shocked.

"Oh my God, what happened?", he asked him checking out the bleeding laceration immediately.

"What do you think what happened?", House snapped and hissed in pain when his friend touched the wound.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?", Wilson checked for any other visible damage.

"Two ribs are broken. I think."

Wilson helped him out of his shirt. Part of the chest was already changing colors indicating some bruises. Carefully Wilson checked the rib cage with his trained hands. House tried to shove him off when he reached the aching part.

"Stop it, House!", Wilson told him and continued.

"I'm fine", House snapped and tried to get up but his friend kept him down.

"House, lie down."

"Forget about it. I'm fine. Now let me go."

Shepard shook his head and interfered. "Lie down, House and let him do his job. Otherwise I'll chain you to the stretcher and make sure you get an enema as well."

House chuckled. But judging from Shepard's facial expression he couldn't be sure the guard wasn't serious about it and so he obeyed and Wilson continued.

Carefully he taped up his chest ignoring House who was complaining about it and called it a waste of time and tape bandages. Then Wilson dealt with the head wound.

* * *

"Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?"

House shook his head.

"Then why did you vomit?", Shepard interrupted again.

House rolled his eyes.

"You could have a concussion, House. You know this", Wilson told him.

"Yeah, and because I went to med school myself I also my head is fine! You're the only one giving me a headache right now. I just need some sleep."

"You could stay for the night. I'm sure Dr. Stone would keep you here", Wilson suggested.

House shook his head. "No thanks. I got some mail waiting to be delivered."

"Forget about the damn mail. You have to rest!", Wilson insisted.

"Yes mum, but I can do that in my cell", House snapped and tried to get up again.

Again Shepard shook his head. Obviously doctors really made the worst patients. He got his handcuffs and chained the unruly patient to the stretcher.

"You stay here for the day", he decided. "And House, you will tell me what happened this time. So far you've been injured twice. I won't accept this violence in my block."

Shepard left them to get back to work while House was forced to lie down again.

Dr. Stone paid them a visit to see how his new employee was handling things. But he knew that these two were the better doctors anyway. All he could do was handing out the aspirin since House complained about his headache.

Once Stone had left Wilson took a seat and finally they got the chance to talk about the incident.

"What did happen?"

House sighed heavily and tugged on the handcuff a couple of times.

"Antony showed up and thanked me for the new hole in his hand. And he was so grateful he even brought along two friends."

"And what are you gonna tell Shepard?", Wilson wondered.

House shrugged.

"No idea. Good thing I have a whole day to come up with a convincing story."


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry it took that long. Exams really suck and they keep me busy. Thanks for the reviews though. Keep them coming, they speed up the writing. :-)**

* * *

Being a prisoner is like being in a constant fighting situation. On the one side there were the guards trying to keep up the discipline. The prisoner could either blend in and play by their rules so they would hardly take any notice of him or he could ignore them and deal with the consequences. If he got caught.

But under no circumstances a prisoner cooperated with the guards because this would raise attention on the other side, his fellow inmates.

Everyone who came to prison had to find his place, his step in hierarchy and his way to deal with the other convicts.

He could try to ignore them but that didn't mean they would ignore him as well. Just because you play Belgium didn't mean the Germans wouldn't run you over on their way to Paris.

He also could play the role of a door map taking everything they did to him, swallow his pride and lose his dignity in the progress. But that would usually only work for a couple of weeks.

* * *

House had tried to ignore everyone guards and inmates. Unfortunately his leg had drawn their attention and that had led him right into a huge mess.

He could either piss off the guards by keeping his attackers a secret or he could rattle them out and expect another visit very soon. And he would be lucky to get away with a broken rib.

House spent the entire day on that damn stretcher. Fortunately Wilson got busy with a bunch of other convicts so he wouldn't annoy him all day long with well-intentioned but annoying advices.

Eventually Shepard showed up at half past five to pick him up.

"So, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Yes. The room service in here sucks! That lunch was pathetic. This isn't geriatrics and still you serve food that could easily do in a retirement home. I still have teeth."

"Let's hope it stays that way. After your nose and ribs it could be the jaw next time. Which is why I want you to tell me who did this. Now!"

House smirked. "No, you got that wrong. It will be the jaw if I tell you. And you know that."

"House, I'm warning you."

"Why is this so important to you? Some guys had a problem with me and we sorted it out. That's it. Sometimes you win and sometimes you end up with a broken nose."

"You will end up in another block. I'll talk to Robins and we'll transfer you."

House raised his eyebrow. "Nice punishment."

The guard shook his head. "It's not a punishment. We have to take care for you and that includes your health. It's a precaution. But of course if we can solve this problem in another way you could stay with your friend."

House sneered.

"You're right. It's not a punishment, it's blackmail. That's way better."

Shepard got his keys and unlocked the handcuff.

"Think about it and we'll deal with it tomorrow. Now let's go."

Stone gave him some painkillers before the guard got him and Wilson back to block C.

* * *

House clenched his teeth and held his chest. He just wanted to lie down and headed for his cell but Wilson had other plans. He approached Sharks' gang. The group was standing in front of their boss's cell and had a lively conversation going on about football. Wilson didn't care and walked right into their middle. He grabbed Sharks by his shoulder turned him around and punched him in the face.

House couldn't believe what he saw. He rushed over but he knew he couldn't help his friend out. There were too many bullies around. Two of them grabbed Wilson and dragged him away from their boss.

Sharks got up. His facial expression showed anger but even more he was surprised. Blood was dripping from his nose and he wiped it away with his hand. After a moment he overcame his astonishment. He stepped up and raised his fist ready to return the favor. House wanted to interfere but he was held back.

"You don't want to do this!", Wilson whispered and tried to get his arms free but he failed.

"Oh actually that's the only thing I want to do right now", Sharks sneered.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "That's too bad for you. I found out about your little secret today."

His attacker hesitated and lowered his fist. He signaled his buddies to let go of Wilson. Instead he grabbed him by his collar and shoved him into the cell so they could have a private conversation.

* * *

In the meantime Robins was busy drinking his first cup of coffee. Many more would follow during the night shift. He hated it. Most of the time the prisoners were asleep and he couldn't do anything but keep himself awake with the lousy TV program. He threw a glance around the block and groaned when he observed how Wilson punched Sharks and how the other inmate was seeking revenge. When Sharks shoved Wilson in his cell the guard signaled two colleagues to follow him and walked over. No need to hurry though. Sharks would probably only teach him a lesson about hierarchy.

"What do you mean?", Sharks asked Wilson. He still held him by his collar and pushed him against the wall.

Wilson shrugged. "What I said. I was bored and read your medical file. Interesting reading. It's really embarrassing. And given the power you have over the inmates and the rank you have in here tells me that nobody knows about it."

Sharks sighed. It was tough for him to keep himself from beating the shit out of that grinning newbie.

"What do you want?", Sharks finally asked showing his surrender.

"Nothing! There's nothing I want from you and from now on there's nothing you want from us! House and I, we are off limits to you and your friends. Play your stupid games with someone else. Got it?"

Sharks nodded. "I got more important things to do anyway", he replied and let go of him. "Now get out!"

Wilson smiled. "Great! I knew we'd come to an agreement."

Sharks held him back. "Don't feel too save. Sooner or later I'll get you for this. And the stupid gimp as well."

* * *

House was surprised that Wilson was still alive and conscious. He had observed the scene anxiously but couldn't hear what they were talking about. Suddenly Robins approached him.

"What is going on here?"

House slowly shook his head. "Honestly, I have no idea."

"You are really into this attitude, aren't you?", Robins mumbled.

Together with his colleagues he made his way through the bunch of prisoners who were watching the scene inside the cell.

He looked at Wilson and eyeballed Sharks who was once again busy cleaning his bloody nose. The guard was surprised to see that Wilson was fine.

"What happened?", he asked them. Sharks shrugged. "Nothing, boss."

"Wilson, what happened?", the guard repeated the question.

"There was a little misunderstanding but now we are fine. That's the great thing about that place, right? We solve the problems ourselves", Wilson told him.

"Not if you solve your problems by punching out other inmates. 24 hours in isolation should make up for it. "

"If you think so, Sir", Wilson mumbled and was led away by a guard. He walked past House who still had no glue and showed him a bright smile.

House looked after him. Either Wilson had found himself some very good drugs in the infirmary or he had snapped and lost his sanity. But House was convinced he had just observed the end of Mr. Nice Guy.

Suddenly House realized he was surrounded by the gang like a lonely gnu in a pride of lions.

"Well, good night everyone", he said and carefully made his way back to his cell.

He lied down and tried to ignore the thumping pain coming from his ribs.

"Hey man!", a voice got him out of his thoughts and he opened his eyes. Three black guys stood in the door of his cell.

House rolled his eyes. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

"What?", he snapped at them.

"Robins told us you're in charge of the mail from now on."

"Yeah, but I don't sell stamps."

"I don't want no fucking stamp. I want my mail!"

House sat up. "Ever seen a postman working after five pm? Tomorrow!"

The black guy sighed. "Alright. But only because you got beaten up this morning!"

They vanished and House finally got his well deserved rest.

* * *

House didn't get transferred the following day. But Shepard warned him that it would be his last chance. He told him to keep his head down and to stay out of trouble.

Now he spent his day trying to empty the mailbag that Robins had shoved in his arms in the morning. He didn't mind since Wilson wasn't around. But by the time his friend returned from his punishment he had only gotten rid of a couple of letters. That was unbelievable. He knew every bone, muscle fiber, blood vessel and lymphatic system in the human body by name. And these were complicated Greek and Latin names but here he nearly despaired.

And as he had predicted the prisoners who returned from work were losing their patience with their new mailman.

House sighed and approached the next cell.

"What's your name? And do you even have anyone outside who cares enough to write you a damn letter?", he asked the surprised inmate.

"Hey man you are lucky I didn't come to ask for it last night!", the guy got up and stepped out of his cell. "Now hand it over!"

House put on a questioning face. "A name would be helpful." He pointed at the bag. "Just in case there is more than one letter in there."

The inmate cocked his head. "I'd try a nicer tone if I was you! My name is William Grant. Now hurry up."

House squinted his eyes and focused on Grant's face. That confused his opponent.

"What are you doing now?"

Finally House smirked. "Done. Had to memorize your name and face. Don't want to play that game every night."

He started going through the mail and brought out two letters for his recent customer.

"Wait a second. You just need one round to memorize everyone?"

House shrugged. "It helps when you got a system. You have to make a connection between the name and the face. For instance that tattoo on your arm looks new. But obviously somebody used a dirty needle since it's infected and itchy. That's why you keep scratching it until it starts bleedings. And what stops the bleeding? Right, the van Willebrand factor. And that's practically your name. Will Grant with the bleeding tattoo. See you tomorrow."

Amazed Grants looked after him. Then he lowered his gaze on his arm. That guy was right, his arm was driving him nuts. Finally he shook his head and started reading his mail.

* * *

"You got something in there for me, Santa?", Wilson greeted his friend when he returned to the block and approached him on the first floor.

"Just the weekly reassurance from your ex-wives. They still think you deserve it but they miss the alimony", House retorted. He leaned against the railing and held his ribs for a moment. He really shouldn't be up right now.

"You want me to give you a hand?", Wilson asked him immediately.

House smirked. Mr. Nice Guy was not completely gone.

"No. Robins is just waiting for me to screw something up. And I'm not doing him this favor today. But you can explain to me why you are still alive."

Wilson grinned. "Jealous that I got away with healthy ribs?"

"No, just interested. What did you find out about Sharks in the infirmary?"

"Maybe I just convinced him to leave us alone", Wilson suggested.

"Right, that makes sense. You could convince death himself to let go of your cancer kids but even you can't get this brainless moron from screwing with us. You blackmailed him, didn't you?"

"Well, if I did blackmail him part of the agreement is probably that I shut up about it. Sorry", Wilson explained.

House looked stunned. "What? Hello, we are on the same team."

Wilson chuckled. "Relax. I'll tell you. Just not here."

He took the mailbag from House. "Now go lie down. You are not proving anything to Robins except your stupidity right now. Even someone with two healthy legs shouldn't be walking around with broken ribs."

House gave him a nod. "Thanks", he mumbled and made his way downstairs to his bed. He even skipped dinner since he preferred a rumbling stomach over the trouble of walking all the way to the mess hall.

* * *

But Wilson was as always reliable. He smuggled two bread rolls and an apple out of the mess hall.

House took them gratefully. He was starving but he made sure there was no guard around when he had his private dinner.

"Now tell me about Sharks", he told Wilson.

His friend sneered. "Let's just say he's probably the last one in here having a problem with the women free zone."

"Why? Because he's a hermaphrodite who can play with himself or because even if Angelina Jolie walks in here he couldn't get any satisfaction?"

His friend nodded. "Not even a bucket full of Viagra would help him there."

House grinned. "Oh this is good. No wonder he's that aggressive. And that information is really helpful."

Wilson threw him a concerned look. "Oh no, House! You won't say anything. He will leave us alone and you won't screw it up! Just forget about it."

House leaned back against the wall but he regretted it immediately. He groaned and held his chest. "Damn it!"

"You're an idiot!", Wilson told him and helped him lie down.

"How did you get access to his medical file?", House suddenly asked.

Wilson smirked. "They just make sure the meds are locked up. Everything else up there is a mess. Dr. Stone is not really into regulations and he's a lazy jerk. Reminds me of someone however the medical genius is clearly missing."

They both were silent for a while pondering their past as department heads. It has only been a couple of weeks but it seemed so far away now.

"At least Sharks doesn't have to worry about getting a tennis elbow like the rest of us", House finally stated.

"Good night, House!", Wilson mumbled and was out of his cell a moment later.

* * *

Wilson had really managed to solve their problem with Sharks. During the next days they were still skeptically but nothing happened. They found their daily routine. Wilson liked his job in the infirmary. It considered hardly any work, no paperwork for him and it was the closet he would ever come to being a doctor again.

In the meantime House revolutionized the mail system since he was still a lazy guy. Every noon at lunch time he stood right next to the stack of treys where the prisoners were standing in line. It had only taken him a couple of days to get their names so it was no problem to hand over the letters and parcels. Eventually he would fold the empty bag, get himself a trey and enjoy his lunch.

But Robins wasn't satisfied that his job would only occupy him twenty minutes a day so he started looking for alternatives. And that couldn't be good news for House.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for your reviews! :-)**

* * *

Two weeks later House stood in the yard early in the morning. Right after breakfast Robins had told him to come along. He looked at the broom in his hands and shook his head again. No way!

Robins had grinned while he had explained his new assignment to House. It was easy. "Clean up the yard!"

House had looked at him questioningly. "Excuse me?"

The guard shrugged. "Well it's important to keep the place in order. Some of us call it their home. Now get started. And don't worry if you don't finish today. There's always tomorrow!"

Robins left and House threw another glance around the yard. It was a big yard. At least that's how it seemed to him that morning. The guards on their watch towers eyeballed him but he ignored their stares.

Finally he looked up in the sky. It was bright and blue, not one cloud in sight. The sun had already made its way over the outer wall and showed him that it was serious about spring this time. It would become a nice warm day but still he was not in the mood for spending it sweeping that damn yard. House knew that assignment was nothing but a Sisyphean task. Once he had cleaned the entire area he could start all over again on the other side because this was a prison and nobody in here gave a damn about keeping the place clean.

Eventually he walked over to a nearby bench. He was glad about the broom since it was the first support he had for his leg in weeks. As soon as he reached the bench he dropped it and stretched out. He knew it would be a short pleasure and so he enjoyed every second of his sunbath.

"Hey! Get your ass up and get to work!", Thompson yelled from the nearby tower but House didn't react. He didn't care, he simply didn't care and he didn't mind the consequences.

* * *

It took the guard five minutes to inform his boss about this mutiny and Robins approached House immediately together with his colleague McCain.

"What the hell do you think you are doing? Get up!", he yelled.

House didn't react. He had his eyes closed and kept ignoring them.

"House, I'm warning you! Get up and answer me!"

He could tell Robins was upset like hell. But it only amused him.

"I will not clean up this yard!", House simply told him in a calm tone with his eyes still closed.

"We already had that conversation, House. Remember the part where you can't do anything about it since you got no power at all?"

"And you do?", House wondered.

Robins was totally pissed off by that smartass.

He put his foot on House's stretched out right thigh ready to put in his full weight.

"Yes, I think I do!", he explained. "Now get up."

House opened his eyes and looked up at him. He could see that the guard was serious about his threat so he sat up.

"Forcing me to do something by inducing pain? Isn't that the thing people have to do if they are not really in charge?", he mumbled while he got up not because he was done with his resistance but simply to give his leg a better chance to come out of this unharmed.

"Pick up the broom and start your assignment!", Robins ordered him. House starred at him. He was only two inches taller than the guard but that was enough to stare him down.

"No, I won't", he replied and watched how Robins got his nightstick.

"I won't tell you again!"

House smirked. "Again with the pain threat. Very creative. Give me a job that's appropriated for a guy with my handicap and I'll be happy to do it, boss!", he stressed the last word.

"The only reason you are doing this is because you ran into my clinic hours last year. Every other doctor and it would have had the same outcome. All you are doing now is shooting the messenger. And I won't take it any longer."

* * *

Without hesitation Robins punched him in the stomach with his nightstick. House curled over and tried to catch his breath.

The next hit on his back brought him down to the ground.

"Who the hell do you think you are?", Robins yelled. "Don't you ever talk to me like this again. Are you out of your fucking mind?"

He hunkered down right next to his House.

"I ask you one more time because I'm in a good mood today. Ready to do your job now?"

House coughed and cleared his throat. He looked up at him and put on a smirk.

"You don't have any power over me. Sure, you can beat me up or lock me up in the basement, do whatever you want. I don't care. There's nothing you can do to make me clean up this yard. Now go screw yourself, Sir!"

The guard standing in the back gasped while Robins got furious. How dared this gimp?

He grabbed House by his arm and hoisted him up. He pushed him hard in his chest. It has been two weeks since the beat up and his ribs were healing nicely but that still hurt. House stumbled backwards and tripped over the bench. That hurt even more. He landed hard on his back but at least he didn't bang his head. Still it took his breath away.

"I will teach you to follow my orders, House!", Robins shouted and walked around the bench to drag him up again. "You will regret your words, I can tell you!", the angry guard threatened him and shoved him again. The pain shot in his leg but this time he stayed on his feet. A second later he regretted his endurance when he received another punch and went down again. House groaned but managed to roll over and covered his thigh.

"Hey boss, knock it off!", McCain interfered and held Robins back. "I think you proved your point."

Robins shot his subordinate a glare and shoved him aside. "Shut up!", he yelled. But for the moment he was done with House.

"Put him in the hole!", he told his colleague. "We'll see if he changes his mind after a while."

Robins stormed away. McCain looked down at the prisoner lying in front of him. He had never seen someone giving Robins lip like this. House clearly had disobeyed an order and that required a punishment but McCain hated it when his boss showed that much violence. There wasn't much he could do about it. He had only worked in the job for five months and he needed it. He could fill in an official complaint. But then his colleagues would treat him like a backstabber and make his time in here pure hell. He glanced at the prisoner again. "Better you than me", he thought and helped House up to get him downstairs.

* * *

While House stretched out on the thin mattress in the punishment cell and licked his wounds, Wilson wondered where his friend was when he got his lunch.

The other inmates were missing him as well. They had appreciated the new system of lunch and mail call. But while they only missed their letters Wilson was worried about the mail man.

"Where is House?", he asked McCain.

"Isolation", the guard told him.

Wilson sighed. "What have you done now, House?", he thought.

"Why?"

McCain shook his head. "That's none of your business."

* * *

The following morning House was picked up from his cell and led into the yard. Robins was waiting there holding the broom.

"Good morning, House!", he greeted him smiling. "Got a chance to think about your attitude?"

House pursed his lips and nodded slowly.

"Good! And what did you come up with?"

"I padded myself on my back all day long because I think I did good", House told him.

Robins shook his head. "Oh you are really stupid, aren't you? See you tomorrow then. How long do you think we can go on with this?"

House shrugged. "I don't know about you but I'm here for three more years."

"Let's find out then!", Robins told him and signaled his colleague to take him downstairs again.

* * *

Later that day House sat in his cell and took a deep breath. He rested his head against the wall.

"You're such an idiot!", he said out loud. He got himself in a real mess here. He knew he had no chance again the guards. Of course not. This was prison for crying out loud! It's the guards' job to be in charge. And he accepted it. Badly, but he did. But this was different. He would not be that asshole's punching ball just because that moron couldn't keep his penis in his pants. House was one stubborn SOB and now he was ready to prove it. He eyeballed his almost dark environment that was about to become his new home and knew immediately he would either lose that fight and end up sweeping the ground outside and probably polishing every single bar in the place or he would lose his sanity if he stayed down here long enough. The only good thing about the place was that it was out of reach for Wilson. He would give him a piece of his mind right now. Telling him how stupid he was and this time his friend would be right.

They played their daily game every morning. Robins wouldn't give up and House was not done yet.

"Just do it, House!", Shepard told him on their way back downstairs on the fourth day. "It's no use, he'll win anyway."

"I know", House admitted, "but I'm not ready to let him know yet."

He smirked for a moment. "Plus it's so quiet down there. A nice change of scenery."

Shepard shook his head. "You are one crazy bastard, House. But let me tell you this. He can't keep you down there longer than a week. You are already half way there."

House looked surprised but grateful. "Thank you, boss."

Shepard gave him a nod and shut the cell door.

* * *

Robins obviously knew as well that he ran out of time and so he increased the pressure the same day.

He approached House in the evening and brought him his dinner.

"Had a nice day, House?", he smirked when he handed the trey through the slot in the door.

"Yes, Sir", he mumbled lost in thoughts.

"That's nice to hear", Robins told him but suddenly he startled.

"Oh no! I forgot your painkillers. Damn, now I have to walk all the way back upstairs find them and come all the way down here again. And I wanted to get out of here in time to catch the football game. Do you mind missing out on one of your pills?"

House chuckled. "You can't be serious. This is torture and anything but legal. I thought you have rules to follow, that's what you told me once."

"Oh and you are following the rules? You broke the rules and it got you into prison and then you broke the rules and it got you into this cell. Just apologize and clean up the damn yard and everything is fine."

"Go to hell!", House yelled. Robins laughed when he shut the slot and walked down the corridor. They were clearly making progress. He went to his favorite bar and enjoyed the game with his buddies while House didn't get any sleep that night. The pain in his thigh kept him awake and it nearly drove him nuts.

House didn't care about the breakfast he received in the morning. He just yanked the pill from the guard's hand and swallowed it. Half an hour later he felt way better and was ready for another walk to the yard.

Robins was in a very good mood this time since he was convinced he had broken House.

But there he was wrong. After that long and painful night House was angrier than ever. The more it hurt during the night the more he hated Robins. And that hatred was directly proportional to his stubbornness.

House simply smiled at him and shook his head. Only two more days to go. He would not give up since this was his only chance to defeat the guard.

* * *

The following morning House stepped out into the yard once more. It was the sixth day now and you could tell he had not seen a shower, a clean shirt or a razor in a while.

House didn't like what he saw this time.

Robins was not awaiting him with the broom in his hands. He was watching an inmate who was busy sweeping the ground. It was Wilson.

House sighed. Great!

"Hey, House. Look I found a replacement for you. He's doing a nice job."

He stepped closer and glared at him.

"He wouldn't stop asking about you. So I told him about our little game and he was eager to fill in for you."

House looked pissed.

"Wilson is actually a nice guy. If only he wasn't your friend. That could really get him into trouble I think."

House sighed. "What do you want?"

"You proved your point, House. You don't care how you spend your time in here because you don't give a damn about yourself. I could probably let you down there for two more months and you wouldn't give in. But maybe you give a damn about him. All I want you to do is behave yourself. Follow the rules and obey any order you receive from the guards. Otherwise it will have consequences and he", Robins pointed at Wilson, "will have to bear them."

House watched his working friend for a moment. He took a deep breath and looked at Robins again.

"So you will punish him every time I break a rule?"

Robins nodded.

"This is my block, House! You are not the first one who tries to screw with me. But so far they all gave it up in the end. So what's it gonna be?"

House thought it over. It was easy actually, the game was over. And he would lose it.

"Fine", he mumbled. "Can't win if you're opponent plays dirty anyway."

Robins just smiled and enjoyed his victory. So this was House's weak point. Good to know.

* * *

"So what now?", House asked him, keeping himself from punching the grinning idiot in the face.

"I think you know. Your buddy is due in the infirmary and there is just so much dirty yard left."

House told his stubborn mind to let it be for a while, he swallowed his pride and gave him a nod.

"Right", he mumbled and limped over to his friend.

"You are an idiot!", he told Wilson once he approached him.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You spend a week in isolation because you have to prove a point and I'm the idiot?"

"No, I nearly spent a week in isolation and I nearly did prove a point but then you came along and ruined it. What are you doing here?"

"I'm having a picnic. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Are you here voluntarily?", House wanted to know.

Wilson sneered. "Yes, of course. This morning I woke up and thought, wow, today I feel like sweeping the God damn yard."

House rolled his eyes. "I mean what did he say to you?"

"He said clean up the yard! Are you alright?"

"So you didn't offer him to clean up here because I wouldn't do it?"

Wilson looked confused.

"Ahm, no. I might be indulgent but I'm not that stupid. House, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Now give me that broom. "

Wilson frowned. "House, you can't…"

"Yes!!!", House shouted, "Yes, I can't! That's what I keep telling him but he doesn't give a damn. And now I can act as his personal lap dog since otherwise….", he stopped in the middle of the sentence.

"What? Because otherwise what?", Wilson got curious.

"Nothing. Get out of here!"

Wilson sighed. "Ok. Don't tell me. But it would be nice to have you around for dinner for a change."

"Yes, mum. I'll be home in time", House snapped.

Wilson frowned and set out for the infirmary. He was worried about his friend. He had no idea why House had been in isolation all week long and he didn't know what was going on between House and Robins but something was up. Plus he knew that House had a long and painful day ahead of him down in the yard.

And he was right. House had only been busy for twenty minutes when he thought about insulting another guard so he could go back to his cozy little cell without a view. Everything would be better than this. He sighed and continued. Hopefully Wilson was enjoying his comfortable job in the infirmary…


End file.
